The Origin Dance
by suspensewriter
Summary: Chapter 34 uploaded. Can one character be two persons?
1. Return to Blue Cove

All the characters from the Pretender series and movies are copyright by NBC, TNT, and the original one who wrote up and thought up the script. I can't say much about the other writers though, they may have been told to write a script about Jarod taking down a drug lord, etc. The other characters are mine.

Now the old Centre has fallen and the new one is run by Miss Parker and her oldest son, Antonio Lambourni. Jarod now belongs to Miss Parker, but memories of the old Centre are still there and he now longs to find his origins.

THE ORIGIN DANCE

CHAPTER ONE

Jarod always dreaded coming back to Blue Cove. He saw in the elegant homes, the old New English styles, the split-levels, the brick facades, and the stone covered walls not a homey atmosphere, but sheer terror. But it was Miss Parker's home and his in a way.

There were more of them now, f a family — if you could call it that, for Jarod had come to realize that since he was born, he was never free. A chip placed in his skull at infancy, impressed with a Centre id, made him their property, and now Miss Parker's.

Oh he appeared free, the clothes he wore were not grey covered with black marks, nor striped horizontally, looked like pajamas, or any of the designation of modern slavery. He still had a full set of hair, not having it shaved in a fake attempt to get rid of lice but really to dehumanize him. Nor did someone come with an electronic instrument to remove those two parts of his anatomy that made him a man. He had on a pair of gray trousers, a black shirt, socks, and shoes. He did not have on his undershirt and that embarrassed him more than not having underpants. The latter he never wore since his first capture by the Centre, although the DSAs made it appear so.

The children were acting up in the back seat; Jeremiah being especially mischievous; Jeremiah, the supposed son of Mr. Parker and Brigitte, but in reality his and Miss Parker's: bred to be the next Pretender.

Miss Parker sat in the passenger seat while Jarod drove, not doing those delicious things she would love to do to him, because she was talking on the speakerphone to Sam who was in the car behind them.

"I plan to renovate the Centre," she said.

"With dynamite?" asked Jarod.

She glared at him. "This does not concern you. Turn right."

"Right, Miss Parker." He knew where they were going, not down the street where Miss Parker lived, but the street behind, a street with large two and three storey houses, mainly built on the profits of the simulations, the profits he never had until he stole the Centre money.

She continued her conversation with Sam, which concerned his former conduct and his changing loyalty to Lyle rather than her. "I am disappointed in you, Sam. If I hadn't seen the DSAs for myself, and the treatment of our Pretender, I would have considered it an oversight on your part."

"Yes Miss Parker."

"Also on the plane. You were verbally abusive to Mr. Lambourni, my son."

"That spawn?"

"Sam, you will not refer to Lambourni as a spawn. Antonio is my son and Jarod's and I have put his name in partnership, so he will be your boss."

"What?" Jarod almost turned around, almost avoiding crashing the car into a tree. He quickly reversed and drove off the boulevard.

Miss Parker did not notice. "Drive up to Lambourni's house and take the kids inside, then come right back. I will have a discussion with Sam in the meantime."

"What's this about?" Jarod stopped the car, opened the window, and glared maliciously at the Sweeper.

"Jarod."

"Come on children."

"Yes father," said Jeremiah and the others followed.

Lambourni was not there and Jarod had no idea where he was. However since the lawyer was the Advocate for all the Pretenders, correction, Homo Dominants, Jarod knew wherever he was must have been important.

Ethan was also not in Blue Cove. He had gone with Lambourni who immediately dropped him off at the New York Police Academy Jarod was sure that Ethan was settled in the training and that his new surname, Di Angela would prove no problem.

One of Lambourni's other daughters was there. She said her name was Svetlana, after one of her mother's ancestors. All she knew was that she was a heroine of the Soviet Uprising against the Tsar and probably a friend of Lenin.

"I have to get back, I have a sense that Miss Parker has taken on more responsibility than she could handle," said Jarod after Svetlana took the children into the kitchen.

"It is right for you to help her. She is a Sapien and does not understand us."

"It is a great responsibility." He sat down, feeling uncomfortable. His back was bare. He did not mind the electric shocks that Lyle gave him, but it was the marks left by the cat of nine tails, the marks that he gave the Pretender, that left a lasting scar.

He took an Almond Rocha, and left. It was not exactly Pez, nothing could beat that, but it was sweet, and he jumped back over the stone fence to see Miss Parker completing her conversation and he hoped, scolding of Sam.

"Yes, the younger Pretenders, the ones my father and Raines neglected to tell me about. need someone to guide them, someone that has been on the outside," said Miss Parker.

"But why Jarod?" asked Sam, "what about Sydney or one of the other psychiatrists? They can handle them better than that thing."

"Handlers, keepers, I love that term. Sydney extolled Jarod his values. Raines instilled his lack of values on Kyle and look at the result."

"Right Miss Parker, but we need to control them"

"Well I decided to change the rules. Raines decided to put the Pretender nursery on Sublevel 25. I have no idea what happened to those carriers or whether they were Pretenders themselves. It doesn't matter. But apparently Raines been doing that longer than the time we found Gemini. By the way, Gemini'll be known as Gem. I know some idiot will call him Jim, and that's all right with me. Why who knows a few hundred years from now, every Pretender family will have a kid called Gem."

"So we do plan to use the Pretenders for simulations."

"Of course, Sam. I don't want to abandon profit, only now we're going to have their input. We're going to check the buyers. We're going to bring the Pretenders from the sublevels, and have the older ones see the actual result."

"What?"

"Yes Sam. And if the simulation is used to blow up a building ala 911 or kill thousands of innocent people or send one of our military jets crashing into the middle of a city, killing hundreds, I will expect double no triple payment from the buyer. And will immediately notify the CIA of their un-American behavior."

"So you're still using me for simulations," said Jarod, getting back in the car and fastening his safety belt.

Shaking her head, Miss Parker said, "No, you're going to supervise some young Pretenders.. Teach them how to survive in the real world." She took something out of her purse and handed it to him. "Now drive to the back entrance SL 1. Oh it's the door to the left behind that section there" She gave him the directions, realizing the Jarod had no idea where SL 1 was. He had escaped via air vents, not by walking out the door.

Jarod drove around the main Centre building and along a road that continued sloping downwards until he came to SL 1, an entrance lower than the regular main, and even lower than the basement or subbasement. _This must be the entrance where they brought me,_ he thought, and then heard Miss Parker's voice.

"Strip."

He did so. There was no desire for disobedience. Those who entered SL 1, except for Sweepers, Staff, and Corporate were non-persons, slaves. Visitors never saw this part. They came through the main entrance. Jarod did glimpse some white doors, which was unusual and appeared to be new by the look of the fresh dirt around them.

"Sam" said Miss Parker, "I want you to take Jarod down to Sublevel 20. He's to be in charge of the young ones. Two are ready to go up to Sublevel 19 and Ted will be their keeper, or slave foreman."

"But Miss Parker, I do not like the idea of Pretenders handling Pretenders."

"And who is better qualified," she told Sam and then turned to her property. "Now Jarod, did you look at the instructions?"

"Yes," replied The Pretender, "so the simulations are to be divided, one hour rest between them, one hour for meals, three each, outside exercise for an hour. All of them?" He was good, but taking on a whole slew of young Pretenders was more than one man could handle. Pretenders or Homo Dominants were much smarter and knew more ways to get in trouble than miniature Einsteins.

"And remember right now they are not to know the others exist."

"Just like the old Centre, Miss Parker." Jarod was disappointed. He thought she had changed.

"No, those who are joined can see each other, and you can make recommendations for those approaching that age. The back of the book shows their origins. Clothes? I decided to dispense with the old Centre uniforms. Walmart had a sale. I'm sure you'll find something you like. Oh Sam." She sounded so nice and pleasant.

"Yes Miss Parker?"

"Your job is to take Jarod down to the level until I want him back up. There's quite a bit of renovation to do, removing the old blood stains, plastering the holes, and in a month, we'll have guests. This'll take a week. Oh by the way, no more threatening to castrate Jarod, pour Lysol down his throat, bring out the car battery, use the whip. In other words, Jarod's not to be harmed."

Sam snarled. "Just a touch. You don't love him."

"What I feel for Jarod, whether it's love or lust or he's a convenience, is no concern of yours. He helped find what happened to my mother, and for that, I have let him live without relative pain. He says he loves me, but he's of the New Species. They don't have the emotions we have except for anger and I don't want to deal with picking your pieces off the concrete floor because an hour before you happened to bring out a can of Drano. Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes Miss Parker."

"Oh remember, Sam, I'm pregnant and pregnant women are very touchy."

It was a long ride down to Sublevel 20, but it did not take long. They had to hold onto the sides to keep from falling down and were relieved when they touched bottom.

And when Jarod entered the Sublevel, he noticed that things had changed. He had no idea whether he would remain here until he died or be united with Miss Parker and his children.


	2. Grandmere

CHAPTER TWO

Having Jarod look after and train the young Pretenders was a brilliant idea of not only Miss Parker, but Antonio Lambourni, their oldest son. Right now, he was off for a week in Italy, finishing off a movie about this opera singer who opposed the Nazis and got killed because of it.

Of course, Miss Parker knew why he would do such a thing — out of character for a Homo Dominant, the scientific name by which those with the Pretender gene, were called. Antonio's passion was Opera. In fact, many of the Homo Dominants preferred the old style of music to the modern. Not having the emotions, they preferred the chants, the baroque, and the mournful music of the past. They, unless fed a diet containing Neogenesis Two or Neogeneis, kept their lower emotions and did not prefer the rhythm of modernism. '

So, they remained impassive when listening to a rock band and not even the sound of the top singer would bar them from their task of killing. In layman's terms, they would be considered Sociopaths even without the formula, but their extremely high intelligence made it less likely for them to act out in these tendencies. Jarod's actions during his escape, was proof of that. Most Homo Sapiens would have written letters, get signatures, join a political policy. They would not have decided to get vengeance on behalf of the victim or, as Miss Parker often stated, "Getting even." This was a pure Pretender trait.

As it were, the reason for Lambourni's sudden departure was a certain District Attorney, Jack McCoy. Lambourni's corporate clients usually found themselves on trial for various crimes and later in jail. There was also another lawyer who specialized in defending obviously guilty clients and his reasoning was that "they can't get at me while they're in jail." He was the brother of Lambourni's crooked policeman friend and Miss Parker started to wonder whether this choice of unsavory and lower class individuals was a negative trait in the Pretender bloodstream and whether she had done the right thing at leaving her children off at the lawyer.

She made a phone call. "This is Lady Angela," she said using her official Adopted Homo Dominant title, "Just like to know how the kids are?"

"They are excellent intelligent beings," said Svetlana. "Constance is now back. She is incorporating the food distribution for the internal nutrition of young Dominants."

"So she's getting them lunch," said Miss Parker.

"Hello mother," came a small voice.

"Hello Jeremiah. You'll be back at the family residence soon," she said, thinking of how nervous the child was and how they had rescued him from becoming the next Pretender. She grew angry when she thought of how her own father deceived her, taking one of her eggs, fertilizing it with Jarod's sperm and planting it into Brigitte's womb. Not only that, but she learned that Raines had stolen the baby out the regular nursery and put him in the Pretender program. "I also have to replace the Centre."

"Are you going to blow it up?"

"No. Repair it. Mother's going to see that only good people order from the Centre, so if you see some men drive up with FBI labels on their clothes, or with General Stars on their shoulders, or look like spies, don't worry. They're not going to kill your mother or you."

"What purpose?"

"Do you remember watching that show where the police wanted to know how the bad man killed the lovely girl so they called in an expert and he constructed a scene? We're going to do that."

"That is exciting, mother."

"Your talking has improved."

"We have commu-"

"Communication," came Svetlana's voice, "you say u and then ni."

"Communication, I learned how to say intelligence. That means very smart. But Jarvis, Adrian, Olivia, and Patricia can't say that. They're too little."

"Well you can help them, can't you? You're the oldest."

"But Mr. Lambourni is and Frederick and Margaret are older than me. Frederick's going to work for the C and A."

"No, that's the CIA, but he's not old enough yet. He has to go to Spy school and learn how to talk spy" This entailed telling him silly phrases such as "The boat flies in the water" and "Chickens are common in Red Square" and "Yes, but pigeons are more numerous. I have your message, comrade." Well it had been some time since she watched those old 1960 Spy movies.

Miss Parker also talked to her youngest children, ensuring them that their close relative Svetlana would bring them up to the Centre Tower in a couple of days. "And when I get it finished, I'll get your daddy up."

"Daddy away?" asked Patricia.

"Daddy's looking after some kids who were like him when he was little. They don't know about things like TV, candies, cookies, and your Daddy'll show them what's it like so their work won't be sold to bad men like the kind that blew up the Twin Towers and killed Antonio's wife. Now I've got to say good-bye to your close relative, Svetlana." She talked to Svetlana for a while, told her that on no account were the children to watch any movie over a PG rating even if they gave her sorrowful looks, and she then put the phone on the cradle and went to work.

So far, much of the bullet holes and observation holes were almost repaired, and she now decided to have an inspection, make suggestions as to how the work was to improve.

"Did you clean out Raines's Inner Sanctum?" she asked one of the workers.

"Yes my Lady," said the worker, "however we came upon another area."

"What area?"

He gave a slight bow. "If you come this way. It is a closed location, not in the lower sublevels, but completely sealed. A place for reflection and meditation, but not what one would expect."

Usually places of reflection and mediation were Churches, easy accessible from the outside, but this area wasn't.

The door to it was sealed shut. "Get it open," she ordered, and took out her cell phone. "I've got to check out on Jarod's new charges."

"Hello Jarod, this is Miss Parker."

"Hello Miss Parker. You certainly are a good selector of ah uniforms."

She smiled. "Comes from shopping over in Paris and taking a course for Young Ladies. So how's it coming along?"

"They have seven sections here and ten young Pretenders." He sounded tired.

"So how much do they know?"

"As much as I did. I have to keep each section separate and teach them there. Haven't much time to talk."

"Well make time, Jarod."

"Okay. They have regular beds, dressers, tables, and chairs unlike what I had. The ones mated can see each other, the ones not, can only see me. We've had two visitors, one a doctor and another from the Airforce. Whose idea was that?"

"Lanbourni's. He wants them to get used to people. Did you get the DVDs?"

"Yes, but I cannot understand the significance of these shows."

"I know you watched them one hundred times each, but I want them to watch them only once or twice, just like regular kids and the kitchen staff has been instructed to give them ice cream and cake if they behave themselves." She hung up. So far this part of renewing the Centre was working.

True they still used simulations, but with the safeguards, there would be no evil dictator or criminal boss using them to destroy their enemies.

"Miss Parker, do you want to inspect the room?"

She shut off her cell phone, and waved her right hand. "Okay. Just stand aside."

The light from the hallway was enough to see what was inside. It looked like one of those ladies parlors from the 1940s, the kind that the heroine entertained. Even the dresser drawer and the clothes lying across the bed gave her that impression. There was an old French magazine, and on the night stand were several letters.

She felt something soft and yet hard under her feet, but ignored it for she had to see the letters.

"I'll need some extra light from the hallway," she ordered.

Now she could see things. She glanced around the room, once again and then to the floor. It was then she gasped in horror. "No!" Stepping back, she glanced at the letters, recognizing the name, she realized they were correspondence between her paternal grandmother and her great grandparents.

She read one and as she did, her face paled in horror.

It was in French and the middlest of English translation went like this:

_Papa and Mama. From your loving daughter, Margo. I am afraid I made a terrible mistake when I married Lamech. He won't let me see the children. He names them horrible names. After evil people. And there's something terrible going on here. Oh dear Papa, I wish I was back home in Normandy. I wish I was helping you in the Pharmacy. Please help me Papa. Talk to Father Lebreuf._

The reply went like this  
_My dear cheri, Margo from your beloved papa. and your beloved mama You are in a strange country, but your fears are unfounded. Lamech is such a nice man. He would never harm anyone. Do not be concerned my child He has your best interest at heart and think of your surviving son. How terrible it would be if you left your husband, the same. Remember the vows you took before the priest. You must obey your husband. He is under a strain. Perhaps it is your imagination._

The next letter followed: _My dear Papa. I cannot do that. He scares me. I hear screams coming from below and when I looked out the window, I saw my husband dragging this man and woman in. I asked about it and he said I saw nothing. And then late at night, I heard this pounding and then I saw Lamech and another man carry some bodies out and dig in the garden. I will go to the police tomorrow._

That was the last letter she wrote.

Miss Parker shook her head as she looked at the bundle near the door, half hard and half soft and wearing a jersey blue dress, what was once a straw hat, and pumps. But she couldn't look for it long. She was fascinated with the letters. They told of her grandmother being afraid of grandfather, the frequent beatings, her threatening to tell the police about him. They mentioned his work, of seeing him put people in ice water and freeze them to death. They told of the horrors of injecting them with poison, and then there were the screams she heard and the poundings. And all this stopped when her husband shut her in this room and left her to die. Her great grandparents never got the letters from their daughter. They were all bundled along with the fake answers written on Centre paper and with Centre fountain pen.

Miss Parker called one of the workers over and said in as calm a voice as she could. "Get the undertaker on the phone. I want to arrange a decent burial for my grandmother."


	3. The Entrapment Business

The name "Carver County" was made up. I have no idea if there is a Carver County in the United States or where it is located, if any.

CHAPTER THREE

So far, the young Pretenders were working out. The very name, "Nutritional Supplement" was thought up by Lamech Parker, so that The Centre would think the Pretenders, non-persons. Not only was the term derogatory but the gunk also it did look like what you'd throw to pigs. There were other methods to dehumanize the Pretenders. Except for their mentors and maybe one who assumed an equal level with them, no one spoke to them directly. It was as if they were not in the same room.

No one in the Centre had cared if they knew what was being said about them. No one in the Centre showed any concern when Raines stuck one with a needle or had a Sweeper twist his or her arm to register their pain threshold.

Jarod took credit for removing the habit of Pretenders speaking to others about themselves in the third person; Lambourni and in a few cases, Dr. Cox, for the removal of Neogeneis from their nutritional supplements until they at last replaced the latter with regular food to keep them from turning into obedient eager to please human robots.

Which meant that Jarod had to prevent some from tying the Sweepers shoe laces together, starting fights — very dangerous when the other one has a gun — and keeping them from making weapons out of the Centre electronic equipment.

He admired the improvements. The children slept on real beds and the DSAs, in color, proved that. Their rooms or quarters were clean, contained radios which of course only broadcasted what the Centre wanted them to know for now. They had books and DVDs, and CDs. They had visitors, usually one or two individuals from a particular organization or occupation. Of course the visitors did not know that the boy or girl or boy and girl he saw was Centre property, and not free. With the new clothes, the guests assumed them the sons and daughters of the staff and that Jarod was home schooling them.

But at least, the boys and girls got an idea of how the outside world worked. And each one or each couple got an hour outside every day on the Centre grounds. This area, like most of the Centre estate was surrounded by walls and since the Centre was built on a no fly zone –except for Centre aircraft— no one knew the children were there. But at least, they got a chance to go outside, something Jarod never had or never remembered.

Someone, Jarod did not know who — certainly it would never occur to any of the sweepers or to most of the staff – had constructed an outdoor gym and it was not the usual monkey bars, swing, and teeter totter set. The kids using this had to be able to jump from one area to another, about the size between rooftops in New York City. The swing set flew at a right angle and the one on it had to be able to jump off it to a patch of ground two hundred yards distance. Jarod walked around, checking to see if someone had signed it, but no one had.

"So what's this?" asked Tina who was a girl about six years old.

"A play set."

"What's a play set."

"An exercise establishment for young ones to train them in physical endurance," said Jarod.

"So it's to train me for fighting?"

"Yes. You have an hour. After that, I will take you back to your rest location. You will then study the approved book and DVD."

"On what?"

"You are not allowed to question my decision or the decision of the Advocate and Miss Parker."

"I apologize, Sen Jarod." She nodded and climbed on the set.

After an hour of jumping and play fighting with Jarod as the pretend adversary, Tina and Jarod opened a white door that went into an elevator to sublevel twenty. When she was in her room, Jarod took a few minutes to prepare for the next young Pretender or rather two.

They still did simulations, but now Miss Parker and Lambourni were in charge or rather Lambourni and Miss Parker. The Triumvirate was no more. The only reason that no one had opposed it for so long was because the leaders were African Negroes and the old Centre did not want to get in the way of political correctness.

However, Lambourni was different. He grew up in working class district whose population lost jobs because of affirmative action. So when the Centre first recruited him, he worked behind the scenes to remove the Triumvirate's influence. Whether it was for justice or revenge no one knew, but it was the correct thing. Now the New Centre was free of any outside influence except for those the Tower chose.

Many of the simulations could be used for evil, and Jarod did protest but with no avail. He soon found that these simulations had to be done twice and wondered why until one of the Sweepers brought him a newspaper article: "Police in Carters County foil Terrorist plot" and the article below saying, "the children at Hoover Elementary school can rest easy now. Plans to introduce arsenic in the water was foiled…" _So that was the reason for the other man watching the second attempt at the simulation gathering, _proof thought Jarod, he was a law enforcement agent. He did not know what branch.

Jarod was beginning to think that the Centre was now in the entrapment business.

The rule book said that the children would be taken up to the next level on their ninth year. However, since this was the twentieth level, Jarod figured they would be twenty-eight or later when they reached the main floor until he read through the rule book, and found that they moved to another level half year later. Anyway, Miss Parker arranged it so that the young Pretenders would be between fifteen and sixteen when they moved to the main level and by that time, they knew enough to go out in the world.

Right now, the children were taught the basics, but because of enforced isolation, did not know anything about culture so Jarod taught them in little bits. People went traditional shopping in the month before the great snows (Thanksgiving), for instance . People went traditional taking off from work in the months after the flowers bloomed on the trees (Summer holidays).

The sublevel twenty-one contained the Pretender nursery and it had a white elevator leading to the outside. However, this area was in another outside section of the Centre and the children did not see it. The nurses took good care of the children and the Pretender mothers knew that once the children were old enough, they would never see them again. Jarod, remembering his own loss, wondered how they would feel.

So he arranged that the older children could come and help take care of the babies and relieved the nurses and the mothers.

There was also a church or rather the back of each quarter had a one way mirror that extended along the whole seven sections. The children could see the pastor, the pastor could not and Lambourni, whose idea this was, was careful in selecting only those Christian denominations that taught of God and the Bible, none of the trying to save the world, none of the social events such as Bosnia, Iraq, and such. Pretenders were to simulate without being influenced by the outside world.

Since no one or nothing was to influence the simulator's decision, the Pretenders were not taught about local customs, fads, and cultural events. In Jarod's case, he did not know about even regular holidays, marriages, etc. and in the latter, he had relationships with women without even knowing that the sexual act might result in pregnancy or not. And he doubted any of these young Pretenders who just mated knew that in five to seven months, they'd get a batch of four little ones. However in the rule book, it said they should know and Jarod used to giving orders and doing dangerous things, balked at this. No matter, Miss Parker just sent down Miss Batlowsky who enlightened the youngsters.

Anyway even though the nurse wasn't a Homo Dominant, her stern demeanor was enough to scare the kids into listening.

"Now children, this how you make babies. You no want babies, you no do this!" And she'd glare at the two kids who nodded in unison.

The three holidays they were allowed to know about were Thanksgiving, Christmas, and Easter since most businesses slowed down during that time. That also entailed them receiving presents, not much, but Jarod saw the itemized list, a pen, a classical CD, an orange. It was more than he got. He knew they were in California in December, but they were so busy trying to catch Dead Beat that no one thought much of the holiday season.

. They also knew that Sundays were off and in some religions, Saturdays and Thursday. The latter was so they'd know they wouldn't expect an order for simulations from Tel Aviv on Saturday, etc. Other than that, things went on as usual.

Unlike him, these Pretenders knew they were Centre property, i.e. slaves. They also knew they had to obey or else. Right now, punishments were not as severe as he had gone through and none of them asked why no one cared for them. Often times, Jarod wondered whether he should have felt guilty about his simulations as he did before he changed completely into a Homo Dominant. Part of the guilt, he realized, was because he believed he had full control on the outcome. It was easier now, knowing that had he refused, he might not be standing in front of these children, instructing them. He would be a pile of ashes, after taken from his cell, stripped, and burned in the Centre incinerator.

Most of the simulations were new ways of doing or solving something and most of the dangerous stuff kept to the minimum. This was rather surprising when the elevator from above wheeled down a gurney with a corpse encased in a body bag accompanied by a message from Miss Parker.

"The children are not allowed to do autopsies." Jarod told the sweepers.

"This is an exception. Miss Parker wants to know who this is, how the person died, whether natural or by hands of another. She also wants to know who did it, when, and if the victim is related to anyone in the Centre or Blue Cove," said one of the sweepers.

"Here's the key to the room showing the necessary DNA samples," said the other sweeper. "You may take one of other assets with you. Also this key is for the equipment meant to set up the simulation. A dummy has been provided, since you Pretenders go all out in becoming the actual people. Miss Parker doesn't want any unnecessary deaths."

"The room?"

"On Sublevel 8. We're here to conduct you and your assistant."

Jarod got one of the older boys to go with him and together they went up the elevator to Sublevel 8.

It took three trips to get the material for the simulations down. The sweepers were very helpful in that they carried the photographs of the first Margo Parker's death scene. It took less than an hour to construct a simulation of the room where Miss Parker's grandmother had met her demise. Of course, Jarod had no idea who the victim was or why Miss Parker wanted to know. He assumed that this was someone whom the relatives had asked how she died, and that the Centre must have had a back log of simulations. Of course, this was before Jarod was old enough or even born.

The older boy, who was called, Zed, was not allowed to act out the simulation, but had to help with the autopsy and DNA identification. It took some time examining the body and determining that she was a woman in her thirties, had died of asphyxiation and starvation. It took longer to determine who she was.

"Now we'll compare her DNA with Mr. Parker's."

"Matches," said Zed.

"All right with Miss Parker."

"Also matches."

"So that leaves her out as being a relative of Catherine Parker or her mother."

"Mr.Green or Mr. Broots?" Zed was puzzled..

"Get them and compare."

"Yes, Sen Jarod."

They didn't. Jarod was at a loss. "Do we still have Raines and Edna Raines?"

"Yes Sen Jarod."

Raines's matched but Edna's didn't. "At least that proves that Raines was Miss Parker's father. A horrible thing to live through. Now we'll narrow the search. What do you have this time?"

"I have the female corpse matches Mr. Parker and Raines, and also Miss Parker and Lyle. It matches Jeremiah Angela, but not you."

"All right, get the DNA sample of the others in the Centre who existed at the time of this woman's existence."

He did so. "She matches none."

"What is your conclusion?" asked Jarod.

"I have none."

That required another set of rules. Jarod thought for a while, imagining this woman who was probably married to Mr. Lamech Parker, and what the former head of the Centre might have done to his grandparents as well as the ancestors of the Pretenders imprisoned here.

"Zed, get the DNA sample of Lamech Parker, compare it to those of Mr. Parker and Raines. Then write an essay on how you arrived at that conclusion. I will be in the other sector." He left, locking the door behind him.

The other young Pretender, called Allan, had finished the pretend of Lamech killing his wife. "I know I've been hard on you, but I've been under a strain." He shut the door and turned on the controller that activated the dummy voice inside. "Lamech honey, why did you lock the door?" and more frantic, "Lamech, please." He continued adjusting the controller until it registered a woman pounding on the door. He then turned to Jarod.

"The human female was locked in by her true mate and the air left the room, the lack of food and water did the rest. There was no sign of physical injury."

"Very well, Allan. You may go back to your studies."

"Yes Sen Jarod."

Jarod and Zed cleaned out the simulation room and called for the sweepers to take it back to Sublevel 8. This time the sweepers came with two older Pretenders after Zed was safely back in his room. It was not his time to go to that level yet. He had more to learn than eating cookies, cake, and watching old documentaries.

Jarod now had to tell Miss Parker that the female corpse had once been the wife of Lamech Parker, and the grandmother of Miss Parker who was her namesake.

"No wonder that Mr.Parker didn't want anyone to know his daughter's first name. She was named after his mother and he probably was told later that she ran away," said Jarod. "I've got to tell Miss Parker." He got the cell phone and made a call upstairs.

"Have you finished, Jarod?"

"Yes. The woman is your grandmother. She died of asphyxiation and starvation, I believe simultaneously if not a minute or so apart. I will need to see the real door to see if the fingerprints still remain, but I believe her husband locked her in."

"Thank you. I'm sending Sam down to bring you up. Ted will take over."


	4. A Mother Again

CHAPTER FOUR

Just before Jarod was to come up, Sydney knocked at the door, intending to give her a little talk about making the Centre a place where evil was banished, the usual stuff. He missed being a handler for the Pretenders, but his position as chief psychiatrist for the Centre more than compensated for it.

Besides, Sydney finally realized that having the more experienced Pretenders as trainers for the younger ones was much better. They knew the score and they would not lie to the children, saying they were here because their parents were dead, the Centre was their home, and everyone loved them. No these trainers were blunt. "You are Centre property, slaves in Sapien terms. You might get a good owner, but perhaps not. He will determine your fate, whether you survive or die." So far, The New Centre hierarchy treated these possessions well and there was a good chance that any children they had might be able to buy their freedom. Antonio Waldo Lambourni had ordered the destruction of the machinery that made the bar chip/codes that was inside Jarod and the other Pretenders of the Centre.

The latter was away for a funeral. His adopted father's son, Paolo had died. _The little retarded boy, oh mentally challenged boy,_ thought Sydney. There was another son, Vincente, but he appeared to be going down a wrong path. _I hope that seeing his brother dead turns him around._

Miss Parker was making a valiant effort to keep from crying. A tear was falling from her eye.

He saw her face and expressed concern.

"What is it?" whispered Sydney for the children were asleep in the other room.

The clean up crew, consisting of the descendants of the original Pretenders captured by Lamech Parker picked up their tools and left. Sydney wondered why he never saw them before, but then he considered that there was a lot about the Centre he never saw.

Miss Parker was resigned that her grandmother had died. Like Catherine Parker, Margo Celeste Parker, formerly Margo Celeste Raison had been killed by someone she thought loved her but in reality loved power. Like Catherine Parker, Margo Parker the wife of Lamech Parker, had tried to alert others to the horrors going on in the Centre and died because of it.

She could not punish her grandfather. He was dead and according to the priest, burning in hell for all eternity. But there had to be others, others that died just as horrific deaths and it was her job to find out. She went through the old files, not even bothering to ask the numerous help to do it for her. This was something she had to do alone, even though she was feeling rather uncomfortable, her stomach sticking out a mile long — in her opinion — and her bumping into furniture.

She pulled out a list of names, dating from the nineteen twenties, a record of deaths. Only these were not ordinary names, the surnames were missing.

"What is it?" asked Sydney.

"My grandfather killed my grandmother. I don't know what I'm going to do."

"You're going to be strong as usual."

"Daddy friends killed too," said Adrian who came from the other room.

"He's quite intelligent for his age," said Sydney picking the child up.

"Mommy mother dead, mother mother dead, Daddy brother dead, sister almost dead, Ethan almost dead, sweep dead, One two three four five six seven eight like Daddy dead." The child spoke in a monotone, almost as impressing some important facts on the adults present and his words had an effect.

Miss Parker looked at her son as if seeing him for the first time. She didn't want to think about it, her accepting the death of so many Pretenders as nothing while thinking the death of her mother and grandmother a tragedy. Jarod had lost his brother, almost lost his sister. Did he think she thought their deaths were miniscule? A small cinder of compassion started to ignite in Miss Parker's soul. . _I need an excuse_, she thought, _yes those records_.

"I've been looking into the old Centre records before my grandfather, when it was first started," said Miss Parker, "The number of deaths. Surely that is high even for Pretenders. I first thought my grandfather only went after the Pretenders, but with the death of my grandmother, I know that he wouldn't hurt to kill—" She handed him the paper.

"His own kind, Miss Parker?"

"Yes Sydney. I don't know who I should feel sorry for more. Jarod's kind being captured, tortured, and killed or those of us who are fully homo sapien. Jarod would expect me to feel sorry for his family, but I can't, not yet.. The Pretender belongs to the Centre, used to. Should one feel sympathy for a possession?"

"He did help you, Miss Parker."

"But you did not help him, Sydney. I believed those lies my father and uncle told and Jarod is property, a slave. I'm not suppose to feel sorry for his fate, but you, you should have done something."

"I couldn't." He didn't want to say that he was afraid, afraid of what would happen not to Jarod, but to him, and besides he too felt Jarod was the property of the Centre, that it was his to obey, and to do what was told. Too late, Sydney realized that instead of sympathizing with Jarod, he had acted just like the Nazi doctor that had kept him and Jacob prisoners and killed the rest of his family. "Nineteen twenty, John, no last name, genius, died after ingesting minute quantifies of arsenic. Nineteen twenty two, Bill, no last name, genius, broke leg leaping over parapet, had to be put to sleep Nineteen twenty six, Leroy, also no last name, died of exposure after put in room with temperature slowly lowered during a month's period. Miss Parker, this is rather long. I thought the Centre was into simulation."

"You know as well as I that the Centre also tests drugs, poisons, and new scientific discoveries. That's why they looked for people with the Pretender gene. They're stronger, more resistant, and more intelligent. Anyway, I had the bodies exhumed and the Medicals examine them." It was then she spoke in a more somber tone. "None of them were of the New Species. They weren't Pretenders. My grandfather killed his own kind, us! I thought the Pretenders were "

Sydney thought to change the subject. "Is Jarod coming yet?"

"Yes he is and you'd better go."

"Why?"

"You'd better." She waited until he left and looked around the rooms. There was still a fresh smell of paint and the clean up crew had plastered the holes in the ceilings and floors. They had also done over and clearly marked the landing pad for the helicopter. The window now opened outside so one could just come in that way without going down the stairs to the main floor. Miss Parker had guard-rails installed around the edges to prevent any fallings downs, or suicides. She had the crew insert Electronic systems in all the walls, although she felt with Jarod interested in the babies, they were unnecessary.

She had one of the workers construct a large bedroom suite, inserting handcuffs inside the top and bottom bedroom posts which were of that Dominant resistant metal just in case she did not want Jarod to struggle. She also made sure the floor surrounding the area heated at an even temperature just in case she wanted Jarod to sleep on the floor. She did debate whether to paint that black or not.

The mattress was rather hard and she had narrowed her side, raising it with foam because Dominants preferred a hard surface to sleep on. She did find the best sheets, and did put a large HDTV television in the room, plus a desk for the computer, monitor, a convection oven to heat the food, a small fridge for emergencies, etc. To the casual onlooker, it looked like a place to stay in case a major storm or work prevented her from going to her own house. However, that casual onlooker would change his mind if he tried to walk out for the doors were electronically controlled. There were sensors on the helicopter pad, and lazar beams operated randomly by a set of controls known by Miss Parker and another person she trusted. No one in the Centre knew who it was.

The lazar beams in themselves, did not cause death, just a slight pain which could be construed as sending an electrical charge through their body. It was harmless in itself, but the recipient did not feel so and Miss Parker had instructed the doctors to magnify the effects so the fugitive or invader would not repeat the experience.

As for the elevator that would bring Jarod up, it too was protected by the rays so that if the Pretender tried to get out from the top, he would get the same shock. In case of an emergency, such as a breakdown, the rays shut off because Miss Parker knew Jarod would try to save as many as he could before trying to escape. Besides that device around his neck sent a ray that recorded on her controller and she had several copies made and put in various locations. At least, she learned this from her uncle and father.

She washed her hair and took a shower while waiting. It would take sometime for Sam to bring Jarod up after he made sure that Ted was back in his old position as Pretender foreman and supervisor, time to make sure that no one else was around. Jarod would have to remove his clothes. They belonged to the Centre and she had a pair of pants and shirts with her. She then turned off the alarm, unlocked the door, and went to bed.

An hour later, she awakened to footsteps, one with shoes, and the other bare. Through the dim light, she could see Sam standing and Jarod kneeling at the side of the bed, the latter asking if she were all right. Of course, he knew she was all right. It was just that the Dominant law said that Favorites were to show respect by placing themselves lower than their owners that meant that if Miss Parker was in bed, Jarod would have to kneel. However, Miss Parker was in no mood for his kneeling, bowing, or nodding his head.

"Jarod get in bed! Sam, you can go and oow!"

"I don't think I'd better get in with you, Miss Parker," said the Pretender.

Miss Parker felt the soaked sheets as another contraction ran through her. "See if the Medicals are coming. Use the video phone." She grabbed for him.

"I doubt that it would be conducive for mating right now," he said.

"Oh!" She quickly let go and reached a little higher, breathed a little easier. By this time, she had reached for the light and Jarod did look handsome minus his clothes. Miss Parker thought of the convenience of having your own particular property to do anything you wanted to but that was overwhelmed by another pain. Jarod was reaching for her.

"Sam, go into the next room, the bottom drawer of my desk — ow! — get the key from it, then go to the cupboard where the cans of food are, —ooo that hurts! — remove the panel behind them and bring them here," she ordered between contractions.

"Yes Miss Parker."

"I'll have to find another hiding place," she said as another contraction came.

Jarod was finished dressing by the time the Medicals came up and Sam had left to buy some small jars of baby food, four nursing bottles, and several soothers.. Two female Medicals held onto Lady Angela and the two male Medicals moved in some rather ultra modern equipment.

"It will be a natural birth," said one of the females, "Just walk around. Some members of your species say you should think soft thoughts, but that is not necessary. The children are strong and not easily influenced."

Jarod nodded at this. "The others are rather mischievous."

"Normal behavior. Strength is needed. A bath will have to be constructed for the children when they come. It will have to be black metal and filled with warm water mixed with olive oil."

The Pretender followed the instructions, bending the black metal that had been brought up in a case, a soft metal that hardened quickly when exposed by light. "Lady Angela did not know of this."

"You were in bondage to homo sapiens and they cat whipped you. You would not know. She was out of it at the birth of the first, but we did it all the same. Bend the bath just so. The oil is one third in proportion and filled to the top. You will drop each child in, and then remove it. Two seconds tops. It is a tradition among us. Humans are unable to perform this. Their speed is lacking."

Meanwhile Miss Parker let out a scream as a boy emerged, followed by his sister. Jarod quickly cut the umbilical cord, grabbed the boy and immersed it in the solution, waited one and a half seconds, quickly scooped him up, and placed him on a small container covered with a soft cloth.

After all four babies were anointed and cleansed, one of the male Medicals told Miss Parker about the ceremony.

"It is to confuse tracking the infants. The combination of oil and water on the skin masks the children's scents. We used it first in Oaxaca. Although humans are unable to detect us, their dogs can. We can flee but our small ones are not fast enough."

"And why could our children escape?" asked Jarod.

"By the time our children are a week old, they can roll over by themselves," said a male Medical. "The oil mixture will stay on their skin and when dried will confuse the animals, if there are any tracking dogs about."

"So that's why the nurse did not want me to bathe the babies," said Miss Parker through her groans.

The Medicals stayed for about an hour, giving instructions on how to care for the infants and for Lady Angela, some which seemed very strange except for the getting her to sip chamomile tea mixed with honey and a touch of wine, the Dominant answer to the chicken soup cure all. She decided that if it did not harm her, it would make her feel more affection towards him.

He had to change the bed, wash the sheets, and replace the mattress. It definitely was soaked and Miss Parker did not help, she just looked haughtily like the princess she was and then expected him to sleep besides her while she hogged all the sheets as she always did. Things had not changed. .


	5. Death by Mistake

CHAPTER FIVE

The sweeper was enjoying his vacation and so far none of his old bosses at the Centre had called him. Well skip, Mr. Parker. He was in the bottom of the North Sea. The old neighborhood looked the same as it always had. Everyone liked him, the appearance he gave of a successful businessman and the money he put into his old place was welcome.

The Centre gave its employees yearly vacations, but staggered those of the Sweepers. He had not taken a vacation for four years, and so his vacation time of two months a year had accumulated. Two time four equals eight months plus sick leave and holidays, leaves a year.

As a senior sweeper he had more than the usual two weeks, and one month of the others. Only a few had the same privilege and that included Gar who was dead.

He did try to contact his friend to tell him that he was coming back, but found the one on the other end had a different voice, one he did not recognize. Raines had entrusted him to help recruit the new sweepers and this one was not one he had any part in hiring.

Part of the Centre policy was to destroy any evidence of those hired to watch and kill, the Sweepers and the Cleaners. He knew when he joined the Centre that he had to be willing to die for The Centre, but so far no one had approached him with gun in hand, ready to shoot.

"So your old bosses didn't give you a call?" asked the man on the sofa besides him.

"No."

"Well my woman and I don't mind you paying for rent, but there comes a time."

"A time, Johnny. We were in the war, together."

"Did you give them a call?" John stubbed his cigarette into the ashtray.

"I did."

"And now you're going skiing Why not try football? You were good in college."

He smiled. "Because I want to go skiing". He grabbed his jacket and went out the door.

He was always trying out new things and because of the Centre expense account, he didn't have to worry about finances. Of course, not all his abilities were in recruitment. Some the Centre especially favored and paid him well for them. When he was in the army, he was in the Rangers, a crack shot, and could extract information from prisoners. The latter had got him dishonorably discharged. He went too far and often followed up on his threats — unlike the others who believed that it was okay to tell that Commie that they had his wife and children and if the prisoner didn't give the correct information, his family would die. Them they would have a change of heart, although often the prisoner knew that he'd see his family many years later. Only The now Sweeper, former Army Ranger, never changed his mind. In fact, he killed the wife and kids, often before the lieutenant brought in the prisoner for interrogation. That ruthlessness was what caused the Centre to recruit him. They were looking for men with no conscience and able to obey orders.

Of course, he was careful not to fight like Sam had, and kill his opponent, and to put the blame on some other poor dude by accusing him of misconduct and dishonoring the Geneva Convention. He even caused one to commit suicide. However, unlike the army administration, the Centre knew about him and when the time was right, gave the army just enough information for them to doubt his credibility and he having a Nazi grandfather helped them immensely.

For security, he put on his shoulder holster before he left the building. He couldn't stand having his old friend berate him on his choice of extra curricular activities, but he had no choice. As of yet, he hadn't gotten a call back from the Centre nor from his employers.

He did not know whether the old man was dead or alive. Their birth certificates, death certificates, etc. were in the Centre. Being on protected ground, the Centre could do that. Once you were employed in the Centre, you were considered no longer an American, but a citizen of the Centre.

Of course, if you had to work on the outside, that is, not in one of the Centre satellites, they gave you back your id papers, and you could take holidays, or live anywhere else until such time as they called you back. You got amply financially rewarded, a luxurious home, an immense expense account, and all the freedom you wanted. You got weapons and if you killed anyone, it was covered up. You got to travel wherever you wanted and whenever, under certain guidelines.

However, he had gotten quite a large sum of money from his employers and did not feel the need to go to the New York bank he dealt with under his American id. Since no one, other than those The Centre dealt with directly knew he was a sweeper, the Centre had a cover story. His employer was a large corporation who had a large and loyal staff. To all who knew him, his parents supposedly had died and left him a considerable sum of money which he invested wisely. This was a good thing because he had no head for business, and would be stuck in middle management for the rest of his life.

In The Centre world, all its employees of the same group were to vacation at the same time. Thus all the lawyers went off to the South of France together. All doctors went off to England together, and so on. The Centre, however, did not have to worry. It had the Pretenders who filled in, albeit at no pay and under compulsion.

And of course, there were those who were of dual citizenship, the Parkers for instance, held citizenship in Scotland, France, United States, and the Centre. That lawyer, Lambourni held citizenship in Mexico, United States, and now the Centre. The nurse, Miss Batlosky held citizenship in Russia and the Centre. And such never gave up their papers. It was an inconvenience to type out a new form for these, but necessary.

The Centre was a no man's land. No one outside of the Blue Cove, except for that Jarod and his family, knew it existed.

Thinking of this made him concerned. His employer should have contacted him, but there was no word. He got in his car, took out his cell phone, and called once more.

But the same unfamiliar voice answered the phone.

"He is no longer here," came the unfamiliar voice. "He had a relapse of his lung cancer and is now in semi retirement."

"That doesn't sound like him."

"Well you can ask the doctor," insisted the one with the unfamiliar voice.

"So who's in charge now? Lyle?"

"Miss Parker and Lambourni"

"Lambourni? He's not a Parker."

"I believe Miss Parker made him an honorary one. He has that killer instinct so he qualifies."

"Well tell them that I'll be in tomorrow morning."

"Thank you."

Before he could say anything, the speaker disconnected.

_So Miss Parker's in charge, and made Lambourni an honorary Parker. I guess that baby Parker's too young. Lambourni must be the regent., ah a male influence_, he thought.

The moon was hidden behind the clouds, and the streets mingled with the sounds of chatter, mostly young and boastful. There was a club open he liked to attend. It had a cover charge and catered to the professional and successful as long as they were black.

However it expected correct change. Too many people tried to get in by saying, "We'll pay you later." And the bouncers guarding it were the type that the Centre would recruit, very dangerous.

It played jazz and middle of the road, some reggae, a variety that didn't include rap. The clients were thirty and above, his type of people, successful Blacks who despised those who had not reached their pinnacle of success.

He cursed Johnny for still living in the old neighborhood. Certainly he could not go into one of the old family run stores and ask for change for one thousand. He doubted anyone had seen such. He had put most of his cash into a savings account using his American id but since he expected to return to the Centre any time soon, had not bothered with his passport, visa or other registrations.

He drove around outside of the neighborhood until he came to a store that looked well almost successful. There were two cars parked in front and the owner seemed to be busy with two customers. The other shoppers were a mixed bag. This was a working class neighborhood, changing from all white to ethnic so he counted two youths, the ones at the front, a midde-aged woman of Polish descent, a man in a business suit, white haired and Anglo Saxon, and a child of three who clung to her mother, looking anxiously at the youths.

He entered the store, just as the youths turned towards him with a look of surprise for one of them recognized him.

"Cab?" he asked, seeing something shiney hidden in the boy's pocket.

"So you're one of them," shouted the proprietor, reaching for something in his drawer. "Well that's the last time you'll get anything from me!"

Instinctively he reached for his gun. It was a fatal mistake.

Thinking that the sweeper was about to kill him, the proprietor shot.

Willie clutched his heart as his life ebbed away, thinking that he should have gone out in a more glorious manner, perhaps defending the Centre, perhaps capturing Jarod, but this. Not This! Getting caught and mistaken in a simple robbery of a grocery store. How ironic!


	6. Climbing Like Bats

CHAPTER SIX

Meanwhile back in Blue Cove, things were going as normal. Jarod asked if he could look for his mother and Miss Parker gave the usual answer, no. However she was not as emphatic as the last times.

"Willie's still around. Raines gave him orders to kill your mother if I let you search for her. However, I've given the word through that grapevine the New Species has, that no one is to harm her if she comes here."

Jarod imagined his mother getting out of a taxi just as Willie raised his gun and Roderick the Executioner dressed in a black hood and with a sickle suddenly appearing behind the sweeper. For some reason he hoped the blade was dull. Willie had to suffer before he died. "So it isn't because you don't want us to be together." He grabbed the slacks and shirt that Miss Parker threw him and put them on.

"No. Raines and Lyle are dead and so is Mr. Parker. They had a contract out on her if you searched for her after I captured you, that I was to keep silent about it until they died, I explained to Sam the contract is null and void. However, I doubt that Raines's sweeper will honor my word. By the way when Lyle first tortured you, did he do more than just that?"

"The usual touch with a cattle prod, but the whippings were done off camera, that is the usual ones. I learned there was another camera, the video that Georges received."

"I hope he didn't intend to do what Raines's planned."

Before he changed, Jarod would have said something like, "I didn't know you care," but this time he said, "It's a good thing he didn't nor Raines succeeded. It would mean a Species war. It's worse than a Race war or a Civil war, because there is no vocal opposition to it. He paused. "Prostitution and Contribution to Prostitution, which is what Raines's crime would be in the eyes of the Dominant Law, carries a death penalty." .

Miss Parker's heart skipped a beat. She had heard of race wars, civil wars, but never a species war. Jarod elaborated that a true Dominant, no matter what his station, would be honor bound to exact revenge and wipe out everyone employed in the Centre as well as their relatives and friends.. He fingered his gun that was on the table.

Miss Parker did not want the whole of Delaware to become a waste land and she certainly did not want to come up against the Dominant equivalent of, "contributing to the lack of moral fiber among our species." She ran a comb through her hair. "I did a thorough search of the Centre, went through Raines' office. Remember my mother rescued eight children?"

"They all died."

"Yes. I found out why. It appears that you are resistant to most diseases, except Spanish Flu."

"So I have to get vaccinated." Jarod had been through this before when he was at the Centre.

It was assumed first that homo sapiens and homo dominants were different species and that the latter were immune from measles, mumps, bubonic plague, and the ills of humans. However when an experiment in the Arctic when the Dominants wanted to wipe out the Sapiens by using the Spanish Flu virus backfired on them, they were classed as a different type of human. Doing this brought on renewed interest in man's descent from Adam and Eve and a rejection of evolution by many scientists. The name Species, however, still stuck just as the name Race to distinguish the Oriental, Caucasians, Negroes, etc.

"And so do our children and any other Pretenders. The Dominants from Mexico get vaccinated automatically. They call it the Copeland vaccination. I've arrange with the doctor to give you all a shot, just to be safe. I hope you're not scared of needles." She said with a smile and put down her comb. "The car's running rather sluggish. I want you to look at it." She turned on the intercom. "Broots come up," and went to nurse the babies.

"There might not be enough. Just give me the name of the doctor and I can duplicate the formula."

"Dr. Eugene Copeland, the brother of the man responsible." She gave Jarod the email address and the website and took out some diapers.

Jarod started to write an email to Dr. Eugene Copeland, oblivious to his surroundings until he heard just the babies squealing, no signs of noise from the older offspring which meant one thing. They were up to something. "I'm going to see what the kids are planning," he said.

"All right," said Miss Parker. There was the sound of something pressing, like the controls of a microwave.

He checked their room, finding it silent, and sniffed around, his Dominant sense of smell picking up traces of Dominant child scent, much less noticeable than homo sapiens. It was then he noticed the small crack on the window that opened to the large flat roof of the Centre. Quickly, he put on his jacket, and went outside.

Quietly he walked over to the edge leading down to the Centre gardens and there they were climbing down the wall, five little ones, each one talking away, not chattering for Dominant children never did. They were too small to jump even to the ledge below, but that would not stop them from trying.

Jarod bent his legs and jumped below them, grabbing each youngster as he or she prepared to do the daredevil thing.

"Caught me!" said Jarvis.

It took less than half an hour to climb back up and Jarod certainly did not want to go all the way down to the front door and explain about five little children scaling down the walls like vampires.

"What were you doing?" demanded their mother.

"Hunting," said Adrian in all innocence.

"Well no one climbs walls and only a helicopter can hover near the Centre at this height," said their father.

"Hunting helicopters," said Patricia.

"Helicopters with big guns, father," said Jeremiah, "over towards the water." He pointed out towards the bay.

"He's got the Dominant sight, that didn't come out right," said his mother.

"There is one," said Jarod, "It's a Navy helicopter heading south."

"I'll have to lock that window. Not that it'll do any good." She wondered how do you punish a Dominant child? Jarod would be the best one to do this. "You lay down the law, Jarod." And he did.

All five children had small bruises on their backs and their cheeks were red from their father's blows accompanied by "if I ever catch you again!" Unlike homo sapiens, the marks would disappear in a few minutes and no one would ever know. Miss Parker knew why Jarod was so hard. Most of the discipline he got in the Centre was beatings.

Perhaps she would be nicer to him, just a little bit.

When the children were quiet and occupied, she broached the subject of why did they choose 1959 and 1960 to capture Pretenders?

"Your parents were born in 1945 and you were born in 1961 rather than in 1959 because the Centre thought you were your oldest brother who died at birth of that year. That mean's I'm older than you," said Miss Parker, "but that doesn't explain why the Centre captured all those children born in 1960 rather than those born earlier given that eight year old rate. If we back track the DSAs, we might find the passengers, that is, your grandparents, who were on those two ships."

"1945, they didn't have CDS or DVDS then, not even VHS. It'll just be film."

"But the Centre converted the films to DSAS. However, we found some old films still in the original cans. It might show the reason my grandmother was murdered. Anyway, Broots would know. I'll have Michael bring them all up." She got on the intercom. "Broots are you still there? Get Michael, that kid in Security and Records, tell him to bring the boxes dated from 1945 to 1954, and about fifty blank dvds."

When Broots came up with Michael carrying most of the boxes, they set right away to convert the DSAS to DVD format. They found that Neogeneis two was not perfected until 1960 and that Margaret had been rendered temporary infertile until 1959.

"So until 1960, the drug was not effective or too effective," said Jarod

Broots gave a long winded explanation couple with who he got that information from, as usual, but the main point of the subject was, "They experienced with the drug and got the children they captured calmed down, but they could not use them as Pretenders. Too many memories and hey!"

"What is it Broots?" asked Miss Parker. She could a girl with white hair and blue eyes. It was a wedding picture, but both couples looked a little too young, the boy around eight or nine years old.

He quickly took out the DVD. "Wrong one."

"Put it back in."

"All right Miss Parker." The computer genius then scanned through the various scenes, turned up the music in the background which was a mariachi band playing Italian opera arias. He moved to the index, finding the entry that said 'Origins.'

"It's a Dominant DVD all right. We' d say something like "Our Wedding."

"I thought that Antonio had a weight problem when he was small."

"Apparently not. He probably felt that we wouldn't take too kindly to child marriages." The girl, Antonio's late wife, a Dominant, was descended from a Russian couple on the paternal side and a Polish couple on the maternal side. "Why when the Dominants were so careful, they'd marry Antonio to a Russian girl?"

"It's because of the Russian immigrants moving to Brighton Beach. The Council's careful when going into a new area. You have to look as though you came on the boat from Moscow. Although looking at Lambourni's children, they favor him," said Jarod. He found the correct discs and handed them to Broots who said he would convert the rest after he worked on the films.

"They're the original Centre storage data," he said, "most of them have been put into VHS and later DSA format, but apparently these haven't." He explained in frustration. "This is impossible. There are about four days worth of shots in here, not like the DSAS."

"There must be something relevant on them," said Jarod, "I'll get the projector." The projector was stored in Sublevel Two, he brought it up and set it up. "All right, I'll start the film."

"How about I do it," said Broots, "you get the camera and film each shot. No that'll take too long. We'll have to bypass the photography and feed each shot into the computer. There's a fast conversion rate here I'll have to fix the shots later." He and Jarod got everything ready, and set up the transfer. It took about an hour, during which time Michael sorted out each DSA according to year while Patricia hovered over him like a tiny vulture.

"What's that?"

"DSAs. The Centre stole the idea from Sony."

"Mario?" Her face showed disappointment.

"Not that's Nintendo. Put that back!" He glared at her. She practically dropped it, and he grabbed it before it fell on the floor and continued sorting.

"Okay. Here's the first one or part of the film. That looks like Miss Parker's grandfather and another man shoving someone or something into a room. Now they're locking the door," said Broots at last.

Jarod looked at it, the actions appeared familiar, another captive being imprisoned by the Centre. "The original Pretender project."

"They didn't call it a Pretender project then, just since the 1960s, although they called it them Pretenders even then," said Miss Parker, "and they didn't call them test subjects either. I believe the official name of the project was 'Intelligent Assets.', but they figured that someone would put two and two together and come up with "Very Smart Slaves."

"Or brainy robots,"said Broots.

They all ignored him and waited until he started the second section. Finally, after they took out some TV dinners, he had it ready.

"I'll put it on fast forward," he said, "there's not enough room on the hard drive, so someone'll have to shove in each DVD as soon as the other one's finished." He started with the first DVD, and then the second, which showed the general area quite bare. He continued taking each DVD, putting one in and taking one out until Jarod stopped him.

"They're opening the door where they shoved that man in."

"Right. According to the time that was four days ago. Don't let Miss Parker see this." He put his hand on the screen.

"See what Broots?"

Broots turned around. "The man they put in that room is dead and he looks a little like Jarod, only shorter, but they didn't eat as well in those days. The War." He froze the picture and looked again at the canister. "It says 'Intelligent Asset Failure 1; and this one says 'Intelligent Asset Failure 2'" He quickly took out that DVD, and inserted the next batch, and then the next. "Miss Parker, Jarod, they're all the same and if I enlarge this one, it shows a set of shovels near a door, and there's something on them."

"It looks like someone's been digging," said Miss Parker, "or disposing of bodies."

"So that's what happened to my grandparents," said Jarod, "they're all dead and they're probably buried on the Centre grounds here."


	7. Eight dash 16 slash two

CHAPTER SEVEN

Roger Carmichael did not like to go through a half forgotten file because some American wished it and especially if that American quoted that the Officials Security act no longer applied since most of the people involved were either dead or senile. He also did not like to be reminded that his own grandfather had died sacrificing himself for freedom.

Nor did he like to be reminded that his own relatives, although not exactly true in blood, were responsible. He hoped that American would call back and say forget it, but he didn't.

"Do we have the DNA on record, sir?" asked his assistant.

"We did get a sketch of the skulls. It appears that our American friend is an artist, a forensic artist at that. Eyes, hair color are complete in detail. This man or woman has made the person look as if he were still alive. He not only knows anatomy, but anthropology as well."

"So what if he gets the color wrong? Like someone with my shape of face with blue eyes instead of brown? And my color beige instead of olive, sir?"

"Well he had to have help. Perhaps a relative of the dead person. He'd need to see pictures of his family and extrapolate from there. This woman for instance, has ash blonde hair which means that if her husband had dark brown hair, the children would have hair ranging from her tint to his. Same with the eyes. She has light gray eyes, but if her husband had dark blue eyes, the eyes of the children would be between, most of them. Unless there is a throwback, but that would be from the husband's side. There would be brown eyes and hazel, but the hair coloring would not be black, but dark brown."

"And what about lips and noses?"

"I have to recall what I learned from the field. The shape of the nose and the lips as well as the contour of the cheekbones determined that this woman was part Welsh. If the nose had been broader as well as the lips, we would have perhaps, assumed the children had more brown eyes than blue and that she was from the West Indies."

"So who is she or rather who are they?"

"Those from a secret file buried and not allowed to be revived unless I get a certain order."

"What is that order?"

"Eight dash sixteen slash two. Until I get it, my hands are tied. And if the ones who are supposed to give it are dead, the file stays buried forever."

But the ones to give that signal were all dead. Roger did not know how his grandfather died, or whether he knew about the code, but the others had all died. True it was nothing spectacular. Coughing your life away from TB, cancer, or the other diseases of age, including forgetting that your own grandson was not your son, was not as dramatic as throwing yourself on a grenade. Of those entrusted with the code 8-16/2, he alone remained. It appeared that because Hitler, Tojo, and Mussolini were one of a kind, and Stalin died naturally as well as Mao, there was no take over the world strong man to defeat.

The Hercules Project volunteers were just a memory and Carmichael was forbidden to delve into it further.


	8. The Secret of the Scroll

As I am not a Roman Catholic, I do not know the names they gave to Satan's hierarchy. I also do not know what words would use to create a curse (thankfully) so I left that blank.

By the way, the writer of the original scroll wrote it in an old English script, but I transposed it to a more modern script, to make it easier to read. 

CHAPTER EIGHT

The monks in Carthis were a branch of the Knight Templers, entrusted with hiding secret knowledge, and part of the knowledge were the scrolls – believed to be from a heretic who believed himself responsible for letting the laity know of ancient lore. Because of their vow of poverty and chastity, the monks could write down the words of the scrolls without feeling its curse. Father Ross had laboriously copied the words into several notebooks and then scanned it into the Monasteries only computer. He then altered the print to a more modern style that made it easier to read and noted something in the paragraphs that made the former professor of English take note.

Even though written in the Middle Ages, the words were not in Latin (except for the incantation that produced the curse), nor even in Old English, Old French, or even the Old Scottish spoken by the people. They were in Modern English. When they first checked the scrolls, a less offensive page was photographed just in case the scrolls had a demonic power that made the words appear modern when in fact they were not. However, what was written was what was shown. So the monks hid the scrolls, and in the abbot's quarters wrote the words, "Take the hidden knowledge buried in the …" which then gave the location of the scrolls. No one knew what they meant until the sixteenth century and since as wars, plagues, and such occupied their attention, no one bothered.

However, even though the monks hid the scrolls, disaster loomed and crops failed. The skies became black and snow fell in summer. This happened every hundred years or so, but no one knew why. They called it the Devil's Storm. It had happened almost a year ago until certain individuals removed the scrolls, and one of those individuals plunged into the North Sea with them. However, until 2001, the curse remained. Now the curse no longer held the power to destroy. Yet, the monks had to know whether someone or circumstances might have prevented the curse. Sadly they realized it could not.

So it was, this Wednesday afternoon, that Father Ross, with a heavy heart, welcomed his visitor, a woman with bright red hair, not faded as was usual for one of a certain age, but still shining with its youthful glory.

"Hello Margaret," he said.

"Hello Father. What do you want to see me about?"

He picked up a copy of an American birth certificate "Note the birth name,"

She took it up. "Jarod Fillipo Lambourni."

"This is the very Jarod who saved the Centre, the son of an Antonio Waldo Lambourni, a corporate lawyer the Centre recruited him along with others of the same birth date."

"So you believe this Jarod Lambourni was the one who saved the Centre."

"I am sure of it." The Father reached for a folder and brought it out. "It appears that before Antonio's wife was about to give birth, and asked what to call their son, Lambourni wrote the name Jarod but then had a dream later to call him Geraldo instead.. Sometimes people who have the gift, the second sight, do not realize they have it or sometimes God gives them a prophecy in a dream."

"That is impossible. I know that Miss Parker has the gift, unless he is related, a Parker!"

"Antonio Lambourni is the oldest son of Jarod and Miss Parker. They were young at the time. It sometimes happens to girls entering puberty. That's why we keep boys and girls in separate schools, to avoid temptation." He put the folder away and showed Margaret a sheet of paper. "This was written on the scrolls, regarding the Centre and predates it and explains how studying the scrolls will give a man wealth and position. However there is a catch to it."

Margaret looked at it. It appeared straightforward at first until she looked at it closely. The priest told her to bypass the extraneous words and just concentrate on the main subject. After a while, she reduced the long winding words describing the many powers the scroll would give to the reader, mentioning treasures innumerable to count, kings and princes and rulers asking you for guidance, and praising the ones who wrote this, their insight into the hidden things, she got down to basics. Apart from the flowery and archaic language, the words were written in brown rather than the usual black.

This scroll will give you power, wealth, and knowledge. Whatever you do, you shall influence many. Obey the words of this scroll and you will rule .Whosoever reads this scroll will gain knowledge more than any man has received and shall prevail over his enemies. You will be master of all and laws for the common man shall not apply to you. I call on the Prince of the Air, ruler of the kingdoms of the earth, above and below to grant you this power! I … bestow my might on you, you my willing pupil. Now I grant you …

At this, the priest put his hands over this phrase and said "It contains the incantation that drives the reader to kill his family, drives him temporary mad." I suggest you first read the other part. I'll turn on the light. He did so, and gave her the other part. It'll protect you. Also if you hold your good hand on the Holy Bible, it will also negate any effects reading this has on you and I will sprinkle your head with Holy Water." He did so as Margaret held her Bible.

"It must be a powerful curse."

"So powerful that it is hard to remove. The scroll is written in modern language. If it were not, the writer would have been ensnared. One knows not the time, perhaps the tenth or the eleventh Century. It is said that the one who wrote it wanted a glimpse into the future and asked a demon for it, for God refused him. The demon gave him his wish, but the monk was unable to understand it. He died in poverty and obscurity. The scrolls were buried in the vaults. It is only in the last Century, that another monk with poor eyesight brought it out into the sunlight to read.

Take heed for the words below these hold a curse. Read this only in the light of day, in the artificial sunlight. Read this with your Bible at your side, after confessing your sins. Read this, o man o woman with caution. For the one who steals this, who reads this in darkness, darkness and evil will be his blessing. He will kill his family and go to a strange land and his new family will prosper in evil, each member a killer and perverse until a woman shall marry into it. After that, the Prince of the Power of the Air will allow the gift of communication with the dead to her She will have a child in which the demon will give the gift of sensing those gone before, the gift of seeing the murdered child. What she desires she will chase but cannot obtain, unless she removes the first half of the curse, to grant her what she wants. After that, she must remove the most powerful part, the curse on her descendants, the curse on her, but that alone will be her task. The power and the might of the empire will be destroyed by a child of the one she desires and the might and power will go to them. The building will be cleansed of the evil and the gift of sensing will depart and she will be whole again. Now read the scrolls, for the Holy Scripture and these words have protected you.

"They do not mention anyone except they will be able to communicate with the dead," said Margaret.

"We were not allowed to, it is forbidden knowledge," said Father Ross, 'The one who possessed the first monk was a major demon, one of the main hierarchy of Satan himself."

He opened a large book on which were lithographs of Satan and his demons.. Each picture was horrifying, and the artist had been commissioned to illustrate Dante's Inferno. Father Ross flipped through each page, showing the horrid images and who they represented. "The names of Lucifer's allies. Lucifer also known as Beelzebub, or Belial, .Abandon —" He continued as Margaret listened in horror to those her parents had warned her against. Stark terror encased her face as Father Ross read the last name and the description '…Giver of forbidden knowledge, destroyer of hope." His countenance became serious. "This demon is ranked in annuls of the Knights Templer as one of the most powerful demons. He is able to curse ones ensnared through their own greed and lust, God allows it. Sorry, I am taking like Reverend Douglas, a Presbyterian minister who visited a parishioner of ours."

"The scrolls are at the bottom of the sea, shouldn't that vanish their power?"

Father Ross shook his head. "Unfortunately, no. The one who is cursed has to request the curse be removed. And if you believe that if another man had found the scroll, your son would not be affected, think again. That man would have also killed his family and he would have had a grand daughter who would have met your son, who would have been enslaved."

"So if the scrolls had not been found, Miss Parker would not have been born."

"She would, but she would be the grand daughter of the first family. Men usually marry someone similar to their wives. It is said that the crypt keeper was in love with his wife and the second wife resembled her in looks and background. As for your son, she would have met him in more pleasant circumstances. Unfortunately if the Centre were to be cleansed of evil, it had to be built and unfortunately many people that were saved by its knowledge would have died. I have covered the curse words and sprinkled you with the Holy Water and your right hand is on the Bible. You can read now. .

Whosoever reads this will see fortune smile on him. At his word, the treasures of the earth will appear, the might of the armies will bend, at his word, the rulers of the nations will tremble. You will be like Caesar, like Alexander, you will have gold, silver, much in abundance. You will be above all laws. But for that you need a place to accumulate all your influence.

You shall form a cabal of those like-minded as you, and build a mighty Centre where all the forbidden knowledge will be granted to you, the influence over life and death, the ability to manipulate the beginnings of life, to manipulate the wealth and power of nations. The scrolls grant you a vast estate promised to the ruler of Rome, but pirates will kill the ambassador before he returns to the papacy. The land will be for you, belonging not to the land of the people with red faces, nor to the people of the Europe, but to you. No power, no nationality can claim it. You will create many things of science. Things that mere mortals wish to obtain, you will be granted the knowledge that only the gods possess. You will now possess that. Your wealth will be impressible and so will your influence. Many innocents will be destroyed, great nations will crumble, the strongmen and dictators of foreign nations will use your power and influence to rule

The Scrolls give you the power to enslave.

The Scrolls give you the power to manipulate

The Scrolls give you the power to influence nations, rulers, lands, and peoples.

The Scrolls give you the power to kill who opposes you.

The Scrolls give you the power to gain wealth and health

The Scrolls give you the power to use others to gain knowledge, and science.

At this, Father Ross shone a flashlight on the word, The Scrolls, under it faintly was the name of the demon and a most powerful incantation. Margaret crossed herself and continued reading.

"We used a watermark program to create the hidden words," said Father Ross, "We will after you checked this, give you a copy minus the demon incantation to show." He handed it to her and she put it in her purse. "This will protect you from the curse. Then whoever you show it, can copy it in his own words, and be protected. The curse has been removed, it cannot be restored. Most of the Parkers are dead."

"Except for Miss Parker and her children."

"Her children have renounced the name of Parker. Now continue and see the horrid results of greed and vanity."

But beware man that you remove the soil from under and around your former house, for if not your power will not arise, you will be as you were before, poor and pitiful, and despised. Carry the soil in sacks, travel the railways, sail on the seas until the base of your empire is shown and spread the soil on that place until it covers the former earth. Do this, and your Centre will prosper. Architects will beg for the privilege of building it. Let your brain increase, let your wealth increase. Let your search for knowledge grow, never to be stopped!

You will ensnare those of great intelligence to gain this knowledge, to use their bodies and minds, but they will perish. Until two mighty powers will restore the children of Cain.

One power will be destroyed, but the other power will turn them from my Almighty Master and Lord.

Read this and know who they are, for I grant you power to raise the storm, to cause the ships to crash on the rocks, to enslave, hunt down these to be your prey, your slaves, to do your bidding.

When you build the Centre, you will obtain these of great intelligence, you will imprison them in the bowels of the Centre, for you will build it not only to the skies, but also to the depths below. They will be your slaves, your minions, those to do to as you wish. They will be able to mimic the minds of others, to become them, but unless you are their master, they will defeat you. I grant you the power to control them. I grant you the knowledge of certain drugs, certain herbs in which you will cause them to ingest. It will make them your puppets — their ability to move their minds, their thoughts will be at your attention. I grant you the power to brand them if they refuse or escape the potion. Without original thoughts, with servile obedience, they do your bidding. They work for the Centre and their descendants until you control all, the world, yours, the planets, yours, the universe yours. All eyes will be on the Centre and you will be invincible!

…

At this, Margaret shivered. She carefully read the lines that was a chronological recording of what the Centre did, the kidnapping of the Pretenders, then called the children of Cain. Was that what she was? "Am I this type of person?"

"The children of Cain refer not to your wickedness, nor to your depravity, but to your intelligence. The children of Cain invented the musical instruments, the workings of metal. It refers to great intelligence, but it says that you and your kind were protected. The Hercules Project insisted that the participants were God fearing people and were married. Cain believed himself to be a god and they started to worship the snake then."

"I want to read how it ends," she said. The middle part didn't interest her, being what the Parkers did and even though it didn't mention the Parkers, it was a blow by blow description of what they would do, their power, and the warning of the change. It mentioned the Triumvirate.

"The Three from the Darkened Land, Black as night, and Black in Soul, to join with the Centre, their power they will rule, until their power will be dissolved in blood. "

"I wonder why the demon didn't keep quiet about this."

"Pride. Saying that a certain family will be great and powerful, and that no matter if there is this one or these ones to defeat them, they will not be able to dislodge them. Pride." He opened a panel that revealed a large television combination video player and inserted a video which he started. It showed the monastery, the monks at their prayers, and chanting. It was obviously a promotional video with the large letters and a voice over telling how it had been founded back in …

"I understand." She went to the last section.

Beware of the daughter of the seer of the dead, beware of her for she will create the enemy. She will join with the bondsman and rise against you. Keep them apart, for if you do not, one appears, Odani, a child of Cain and of your seed, the Advocate, first crazed by the Curse. For if Odani is brought forth; he will summon the Chosen. Odani, descendant of the Odani of long past, of the fall of the mighty empire of Rome, the betrayer of his tribe, the new Odani is the mighty counselor, auburn of hair and hazel eyed. He is the father of the Chosen. If he is born, the power of the Centre will turn from you, it will go into the Light.

Beware, for then your descendants will meet the deaths of the stabbing instrument, the jagged saw, the strangling vice, the ripping scalpel, the severing axe, the crushing rock, the shattered heart, and I will welcome them into my kingdom of desolation and barrenness.

Let not Odani appear. Do not seek for him. He brings the Chosen. He brings destruction. Beware!

The Centre shall rise. The Chosen will be found, a boy named Jarod."

"If the Parkers saw this, then they would know about Jarod," said Margaret who turned her attention to the television where a scene was taking place.

A group of monks, all heavy set, were opening the scrolls one at a time, but when they tried to open the third scroll, it only opened part way.

"The original Parker and his grandson only saw the part ending with the bondsman so I was told by my visitor they made sure than such never came together. They forgot one thing. The Children of Cain are able to fool and the bondsman fooled them." At this, Father Ross smiled. "When the original Parker read what he wanted to know, he took the scrolls with him to America and started the order of the Vespusians. However, we wanted someone to make sure the scrolls were in pristine condition and Brother Nathaniel rolled the scrolls, read the end, and decided that whoever this Jarod was, he was in danger."

He then pointed his finger at her. "The cryptkeeper's son, Miss Parker's grandfather forced Brother Nathaniel to open the whole scroll and he read it. We do not know whether he read the part about Odani and Jarod because when his man servant found him, he was dead. He put the scroll below in the Centre where it remained until you brought it to us."

"How come he died?"

"Fear fright at what he read. An incantation so powerful that —do you see that grave out in the grounds? Brother Ambrose. He made the watermark and inserted it in the exact spot on the paper but suddenly died, clutching his heart. Brother Ambrose was never sick a day in his life. We copied that part minus the incantation and the curse." He took out the tape of the very hefty monks and inserted another into the VHS recorder.

"I received this from someone who said his name was Roderick, a councilman by all accounts, but I checked Delaware and found no one by the name of Roderick Valdez on any of the boards. Look."

Her face white with fear, Margaret watched as several important people entered the Centre and watched the shaking of hands, the nods of approval, and the silent footsteps of the unknown, those who did the janitorial work, those nameless souls who padded by, offering this man a drink, the girls serving the appetizers. And then she saw him, her son, he was with Miss Parker, and they had a small child which Jarod carried in his arms.

She also saw another boy, red hair, lighter than hers, but she could see something of him in her. She paled. Who was this boy?

Margaret was just about to get up, but Father Ross stopped her. She then watched the unfolding as the boy with the red hair joined another boy and a man who carried a large box. They walked towards Mr. Parker who apologized to his guests and eagerly waited for the box. He smiled and then paled, clutching his heart.

For a moment, Margaret froze, and then some hidden anger grew in her. The head that was in the box, that the cameras saw was Dr. Raines.

She saw the doctors trying to revive Mr. Parker, the medics working on him, bringing in the equipment that should bring him back, but could not and then she watched a man, not as tall as Miss Parker or Jarod, a man who before was chatting with a blonde woman. She watched this man raise his hand slightly and at the same time, she saw another man, this one with light brown hair take two guns simultaneously from the right hand and left hand pocket of his trench coat, raise them, and pointing, fired.

After that, she saw only chaos. Whoever held the camera had it knocked out of his hand. Blood splattering everywhere, men and women ran and fell dead by gun powder, knives; garroting or neck breaking, their heads at a lopsided ankle, the blood pouring out of their mouths. A hand reached to pick up the camera, she saw an eye, blue with a touch of grey, and then the camera showed the whole scene, the silent screams of the women until the sound returned, and she heard the orders of the sweepers. "Take cover!" "Look out!" "Take that you bastard!" and the yells of a man with a Spanish accent. "Let none of them escape!" She could also see that Miss Parker held the little boy, while Jarod took out his gun and started shooting, first one and then another, but he was not defending the Centre, no he was with the others.

A few minutes later, she looked on a scene of absolute carnage. Bodies were all over the place, and then the light brown haired man took something out of his pocket. There was a flash and the bodies were no more.

Margaret had just witnessed a film of the cleansing of the Centre. "Who are they and how could they do those things?"

"The Children of Cain those who have the Pretender gene, also known as the New Species also known the Homo Dominants of which Antonio Lambourni and your son are such. These were those whom the descendants of Lamech Park…"

But Margaret could not hear the rest. She ran out of the door, hailed a cab, and told the driver, "Take me to the nearest airport." She had to get to the Centre and find her son.


	9. Cleaning up

CHAPTER NINE

Back in Delaware, Jarod stared out the window, at the large landing strip where the helicopters would land. So far, not one had come and he was sure they would be considerably less. Ever since Lambourni and Miss Parker changed the setup at the Centre, those who depended on someone else's misery to prove that a drug caused convulsions, and needed four hours to be effective, found the new Centre not to their liking.

Jarod turned from the window and looked at old file that contained information about the first 'Pretenders' who were orphans or love children, and the advertisement used to lure them: "Orphan Boys and Girls of Intelligence and Distinction needed for a Scholastic Program." No one missed a foundling or a child whose mother was probably a whore, a father a drunkard. But these didn't work and neither did the intelligent children grabbed from loving parents until the Hercules Project restored the type of man normal before the Deluge. He handed back the file to Miss Parker. "You can see here the lab reports of how A5425 was created, the transfer into the surrogate's womb, the date of termination of such surrogate after A6425 the offspring was delivered, test tubes and vials used, frozen carbon dioxide, etc."

The first true Pretenders were the children of those used to create these restored Children of Cain but since most were born in the Centre and since Lamech Parker had killed their parents, these were employed at digging out the Centre and increasing its sublevels down below. They were increased through the test tube method which made Miss Parker frustrated that she couldn't find a history on them. "Just a sperm and egg getting together," she explained in frustration.

"Miss Parker, when did you say that Lambourni almost threw Gar off the roof?"

Miss Parker was busy feeding her little ones and not taking notice of her property. She was also talking on the phone and by the sound of it, it was long distance.

"What do you mean? Something in whose pocket?" She adjusted infant number one from her breast and inserted infant number three. It was much easier than saying their names. Everything was in chronological order, the oldest infant first, and then the others. She was seriously thinking of nick naming them Eenie, Meenie, Minie, and Moe.

"Do you mean that Gar was in whose pocket?" asked Jarod.

"That's not what I meant. Sorry, someone in the other room. Okay Officer, whatever your name was, could you give me the details."

"Parking ticket?"

"No, ouch! Sorry officer, hungry baby. Let's see, a Mom and Pop grocery store robbery, three suspects, one dead at the scene, all African American. Dead one must have been the decoy. Evidence of a shoulder holster. Hefty build, dark skinned, suit tailor made, what?"

This time the conversation was in whispers, and Jarod figured that the dead man must have been with the Centre for the way Miss Parker talked. Perhaps Roderick was a little careless, leaving the body out in the open where someone could find it, but he had to show concern.

"Something wrong?"

"Jarod stop what your doing, and get a couple of the new clean up crew."

"Okay. Children behave yourselves."

"Yes father."

They didn't sound convincing.

The older children were trying to construct a model railway that Jarod got them with Miss Parker's money, of course. Not having one himself as a child, he figured that is what fathers do. Jeremiah had finished putting the tracks over a mountain, a formidable task since the mountain was designed so that tracks would go around it, not over it.

The clean up crew, two men in their thirties arrived. One was white, the other black. They did not look like the Old Centre crew, their eyes did not have that merciless stare, and they lacked the certain inhumanness regarded by Centre as ideal. Miss Parker whispered to them.

One of them, a man with red hair blinked. "But Miss Parker, a pauper's grave? A Centre employee?"

"I don't want his name associated with the New Centre. Willie's to be turned over to the city and cremated. Your name is Mohammed, isn't it?"

"Yes," said the black one.

"And you graduated from the Charleston School of Acting?"

"Yes Miss Parker."

"You are to say that you knew this Willie as a wastrel, a no account, shit, I'm beginning to sound like the low class around here. Say that he has no family. You're also broke. And Scott, take these." She handed him a packet. "This contains as much damaging information on Willie as possible. Give it to the investigation officer."

"Thank you."

After they left, Miss Parker turned to the subject of Gar. "Jarod you were talking about Gar a moment ago Maybe the Centre doctors revived him and he went to work even though he was officially listed as deceased. Lambourni could have found out he was a sweeper and since Gar was supposed to be dead, no one would've noticed."

"Look Lambourni's youngest by his late wife are younger than Jeremiah, not older," he explained, "so why did you say it was Gar?"

"And who do you think it could be? Sam? Willie?"

He walked over to her, and tickled the babies who giggled. "Or someone that Lambourni felt he would get in trouble if others noticed who it really was."

"My brother?"

"Raines. Didn't you say that he always kept his door open when Lambourni wanted to see him about something, and he always had someone nearby, just in case? If it were Lyle, he would have thrown him to the ground."

"And why not Lyle?"

"Because of his age. Dominants aren't that dumb. They want to look good, so killing someone in full view who is in his late twenties or thirties is fair game. Tossing someone who has breathing problems, coughs a lot and carries an oxygen tent makes you look like a…"

"Killer." She quickly put the babies in their bed, and while changing them. "Come on Jarod, I saw the Cd!" She was getting angry right now.

"Lambourni can mask his presence and make you see something you don't, like Gar struggling instead of Raines. He is also intelligent enough to alter the CDs and replace Raines's body with Gar. Only since the Centre kept Gar's death a secret from an obvious outsider that Lambourni was at the time, they would have aided in his deception and you, being afraid of being demoted or loosing your share of the Parker millions, would have gone along with it!"

"Look Jarod! If you want to spend the night not being stretched out and chained to the bed, while I use you, you had better be more civil!"

"What's civil got to do with it? It's the truth Margo. Lambourni didn't want people to think he'd toss a sick and evil old man twenty stories or more to the ground,"

She was so angry, she didn't realize he used her first name. "Well maybe he should have instead of waiting for his son to do the chop-chop. Now get the door! Your five minute sense must be on sleeper mode!"

Actually Jarod's sense was working just fine. It was that he knew the Broots was not alone and the woman with him had red hair and the last time he saw her was about two years ago.

"Mother?" he asked.

She stood there besides Broots, and then her eyes widened with fear as she saw Miss Parker.


	10. Reunion

CHAPTER TEN

Margaret took one look at her son and saw a stranger. It was almost as if she was going back in time over thirty years ago when Jarod was a little boy, before the doctor came to visit, before they got the medicine to calm him down. "Your father told me everything." That was all she could say.

"I couldn't look for you after Miss Parker caught me."

"Caught you?" She could not believe it. Was her son so tired of running, that he allowed Miss Parker to drag him back to this hell? Only it was not a hell now. The tower had changed since it was first described to her. It was more like a home, a luxurious home. But perhaps that way her son had lived, in caves, in rented houses, being other people, he just gave up. Others had been like that, but not her Jarod.

"As long as I was free, I could look for you, but when Miss Parker captured me. ." He stopped for a moment, as if he was going to tell her something, but dared not.

His mother could see the children with dark blue eyes and hair ranging from light brown to dark brown with a reddish tinge. Their features were familiar, a combination of her son and Miss Parker's.

"Hello Margaret," said Miss Parker. Her voice was pleasant but a bit cool. She still had that haughty look of hers. Her voice became softer. "Margaret, I saw the photo of you and mother, I knew then that someone sent it to me, to frighten me, only I couldn't do anything about it."

"You tried to shoot me at Carthis."

"I know. You know about the curse, but it's gone now." She pointed to Jeremiah. "This is Jeremiah, my son and Jarod's, who I thought was Mr. Parker's and Brigitte's. I had to stay to protect him. Even if I caught Jarod, I could never leave to see the little boy change from a sweet child into a monster like Lyle or Raines."

Margaret clasped Miss Parker's hands. "It must've been horrible. You said the curse is no longer present."

"I succeeded at getting rid of it, but at a price and there's something about the soil here."

"Here," said Margaret, taking the copy of the scrolls out of her purse, "Read this. Don't worry, it won't hurt you, but I believe you have to read the warning first."

Miss Parker and Jarod did so; even the little children looked over and nodded at the words they understood. For clarity, Jarod read out the first part and gave explanations.

"I learned something from Charles that you own Jarod. How'd that happen?"

"Yes. Daddy gave him to me. The Pretenders are owned by the Centre. Did Major Charles tell you about the chip and the DSAs?"

"Yes and that marriage ceremony. What did they call it the Official Joining. How could they make him do those things at the Centre?" The words came out her mouth like water tumbling down a cliff and Margaret started to feel ill. But she kept her cool. Was Jarod's confinement in the Centre worse than what her husband told her? "So what'd you remember?"

"Everything. What Jarod really looked like, the things that happened to him and to me. Do you know he doesn't know what he really looked like, Margaret? They inserted a chip into a mirror and showed him a different boy. Those DSAs were doctored to make him believe his time in the Centre was not as bad as it really was."

"My father thought they were," Jarod retorted.

"Your father was reacting to not having you around. If you had gone to a reformed school or a boot camp, he would react the same way!"

"So Miss Parker how did they make you believe those lies?" Margaret asked.

"The Centre had a gas that caused mass hypnosis which they later sold to Saddam. That was how the people thought he was in two or three places at once. There were only so many duplicates and it would have cost too much money to do the plastic surgery and voice surgery on the others."

"Not to mention cut into their palace decorations, diamonds, rubies, and fancy carpets," said Jarod.

"Jarod!"

He sneered and noticed the children were acting up, but Broots pushed by and said, "I'm sorry Miss Parker, but need to update the computers. I'll start with the lap top."

"I thought you already did them."

The computer geek opened a package and showed the contents to Miss Parker and then to Jarod. "The last one only works with Photoshop, but this one's much better. It strips off the outer layer of the DSAs. Now I'm happy to say that this rivals the ones used in the FBI labs. It comes highly recommended. Of course, it's just out of beta and won't go into production until…"

Miss Parker tapped her fingernails against the case and leaned over him. "Get on with it Broots." She turned to Margaret. "I can get you some tea if you like."

"Thank you." Margaret sensed that her son was waiting to tell her something. Perhaps more of what he went through, but as soon as Broots had finished with that one and gone to the family computer, he shoved a disc into the lap top's computer tray."

"It contains background information and tells who we are really and why I'm a Pretender. Oh it's not because I have AB negative blood. Eddie had A positive and Danny had O positive."

Margaret looked through it as Jarod skipped from one scene to another, from the first experiment of the Hercules Project to the fall of the present Centre. She listened to his explanations of why they were different. By this time Miss Parker returned with a cup of tea and some _Peek Freans_.

"Thank you Miss Parker. Charles said you got the curse removed. How'd that happen?"

"I don't know how. If I got Jarod, I'd be free of the Centre. So I went to the priest and told him of the family curse. He said it was too powerful, but he could remove part of it. I said I was pursuing a man who stole something from the Centre and the curse meant me chasing him running. He said he could remove the curse so I'd catch this man, but there was one condition, I couldn't kill him. The rest, you know."

Margaret nodded. For some reason, she felt sympathy for Miss Parker, braving her father, uncle, and brother to remove a horrible curse and she knew herself the ramifications of the choice the crypt keeper did in delving into things that he wasn't supposed to touch. Had Miss Parker not done what she did, these children would turn out worse than Lyle or Raines because they had her son's intelligence in them. Even free from the curse, the kids still showed a certain amount of ingenuity even at their young age.

Jarvis and Patricia were trying to open the locked drawer where Miss Parker kept her gun. Luckily the bullets were on another shelf, but it the other two with the help of Jeremiah were getting a chair and pushing it towards it. The scraping sound aroused Jarod's suspicion. He started towards Jeremiah and his two coconspirators.

"How many other children did you have? Did the Centre create them without your knowledge?"

"Excuse me, Margaret." Miss Parker quickly got off her seat and turned to the other two.

"Don't let them near the gun," said Jarod with a slight smile and turning to his mother, continued with the story. "As Miss Parker said, we went through the Official Joining. Antonio Lambourni, the new Centre corporate lawyer was there as a witness plus this older woman about forty two, five feet six and nine and one eight inches, with a blue jacket over a print dress, red flowers on a dark navy pattern, oh she was one half Welsh, one quarter Italian, and one quarter French, had dark blue eyes almost hazel……"

Miss Parker made a motion across her throat as she came back from the other room.

"Okay so much for the preliminaries. After we got joined, we had the sprinkling on with holy water, but when the priest started to tell the demons to depart from Miss Parker and her issue, but not in those words, Antonio started to change."

"Father Ross told me that Antonio Lambourni was your son and Miss Parker's, but I didn't believe it at first."

"They kept Jarod ignorant of many things. He thought they took a sample from his arm or his mouth, put it in a petrie dish with a sample from a female's arm or mouth and presto baby," said Miss Parker.

"Lambourni son's Geraldo is almost like my name. He's the one spoken in the scrolls, not me," said Jarod.

Margaret smiled. "Of course not. The scrolls spoke of a boy called Jarod, not a man. It had to be someone else. You were named after your paternal grandfather, Jarold, only our parents, that is your father's and mine were killed when we were small and over time we let the L slip and were more concerned with surviving than how to spell. Am I a Pretender?"

"You are. I have something to show you." He flipped through the pages of the Dominant book and showed her the article about Neogeneis Two and how it made him more dependant, and more childlike. "I was afraid, I blamed myself for the Centre ills. I felt guilty that I did the simulations that were used to kill and hurt others. I later learned it was the result of Neogeneis Two inserted into my Nutritional Supplement and put in my Tomato Juice."

Margaret glanced through the book which gave in great detail the effects of Neogeneis Two on the Homo Dominants. It explained that it made the person affected more controllable by mentor, teacher, or instructor — although he didn't realize it. They colored his viewpoint on life, his decisions, and his judgments. "So how did you start to revert back to your true self?"

"First the Centre sent Sydney to Europe a year or so before I escaped. I remained in my cell, hungry. You see the Pretenders are not fed unless their handlers give the authorization. It's supposed to be a way of punishment. Of course, each nutritional supplement is designed so that if one doesn't get enough, one loses whatever little fat they have left and then the muscle tissue. Then Raines sent some sweepers to get me, put me in a cylinder and almost killed me. After that, I started to wonder about the sims. It's as if something inside me changed."

"They killed you?"

Although Jarod was calm, his eyes recalled the terror. He could not breathe, it became dark, and he lost consciousness. At that moment, he knew he was clinically dead, but his soul was still in his body, but he felt that in that one second, that it was about to depart permanently and go to a place of horrors. He had never known about God. Sydney was not allowed to teach him. In the Centre eyes, he was not even a person. And then suddenly he felt an enormous pain, and he was back in the Centre, Raines and the other man removed him from the canister, and the sweepers dragged him back to his cell.

"I had an urge to escape, not the pranks I did before, not exploring, but I actually wanted to leave the Centre and I wanted to go after others like them, but it appears that after that, I was sent to the Renewal Room and they removed that part of my memory but not the horror nor the dreams." He turned to Miss Parker. "That's why I phoned you early in the morning, or after midnight. When one of the sweepers grabbed me, I saw his watch. It was 1:45 in the morning."

Miss Parker didn't show any sympathy, but she remembered having fallen asleep numerous times after using him, and then one night when the moon was quite large, turning and seeing him stare at the ceiling, his eyes wide open. It was two a.m. in the morning. She had threatened him, even struck him, but he didn't fall asleep until it was almost day break. The next night it was the same thing, Jarod's eyes suddenly coming awake as if he was waiting for something, footsteps. She had wanted to kill him, but she knew if she did, the curse would return tenfold, so she kicked him with her high heels, and chained him to the bed and raped him, but no matter how much punishment she gave him, Jarod wouldn't, couldn't change. The fear was too deep and she didn't want to resort to Lyle's battery charger or to have the sweepers beat Jarod senseless — besides it wouldn't do any good.

Margaret broke her reverie. "You mentioned Neogeneis."

Jarod held him mother's hands. "They gave you too much of the Neogeneis. It rendered you infertile, so they had to reduce it. That's why you gave birth to me, Kyle, and Emily later. And they wiped my memory." He had to tell her everything, and that he was not free even now. That none of the Pretenders were and that they had to remove the drug from her system .

Miss Parker came over and showed a photograph of Frederick and Margaret. "This is my second oldest Frederick, and my daughter Margaret." She pointed to a framed photograph of two men in front of a courthouse. 'The one on the left is Antonio Lambourni, my oldest. The one on the right is Jack McCoy, he's an assistant district attorney."

"Were they friends?"

"I don't think so," said Jarod and taking out the photo, read the inscription on the back. "Oh that's about the time, Lambourni got the Centre to pay for burning down his house. Apparently McCoy told his boss who pulled a few strings. We have a certain limitations on civil liabilities."

"Besides," said Miss Parker, "Both men are quite similar. They're always striking deals. No, Lambourni always tries to get his clients to plead guilty. The inscription on the back should read 'Saved the taxpayers one thousand dollars.'"

"I'd better get the door."

"You can wait another five minutes. I don't hear anything."

"Right." He went to his mother and explained a bit more, trying to keep her calm as the Neogeneis in her system made her fearful, and very obedient. If he were a homo sapien, he would say it was her choice, but he knew she did not want to be like this, always afraid and doing anything anyone told her. That was probably one of the reasons she went to Carthis, not just to return the Scrolls but to be under the influence of the Monks.

By the time, he finished, Roderick and a Medical were at the door.

"I've come to Raise the children," he said as Jarod pointed the appropriate mention of the ceremony in the Dominant Book.

"It seems incredible that my grandchildren will be able to do all this," said Margaret.

"And more," said Roderick, "children of homo sapiens and dominants have powers we don't have. No we cannot read minds, but can cloud thoughts. And they'll be good at it." He took four dollars from Miss Parker and with a very severe voice said, "By the will power of the Council, your newborns are now officially RAISED! May they strike fear into the heart of man! May they be honored among the New Species!"

:"What are their names?" Margaret asked Jarod.

"I don't know. I'm not free so I can't name them."

"I can, if I knew what Jarod's family background was."

"My husband's family was Dutch of the old Gaulish stock before the Franks invaded, but there's something else in him," said Margaret, "My mother said I was German.

"Then that settles it. I'll name them Johann, Lisa, Colin, and Catherina. My mother was part Swedish, I'm part Irish and French and Jarod's part German and Dutch, I think. Sorry I can't name one of them Charles because well Margaret's husband's called Charles. Oh well it appears to be quite popular. They'll be asking which one? Oh by the way, the baptism will be this Sunday, but first we have to find if the Centre killed your parents and the others."

"The others?" Margaret's face turned pale.

"I suspect that the Centre murdered my grandparents plus the other passengers that were on those two shipwrecked ships," said Jarod, "after we dig their bodies out of the Centre grounds, we're going to MI-5 headquarters and find out where we all came from."


	11. The Past Always Comes Back to Haunt You

CHAPTER 11

FBI agent Jack Riley was having a bad day. He had failed in his last assignment to arrest a notorious serial killer whom he had tracked from Maryland to California. Now this kook had just flown in from the base in California saying that some guy named Jarod had told him something about a place called the Centre.

He told his chief about it — who thought that Jack was on one of his wild goose chases as usual — so the agent decided to pay a visit to that place and found it wasn't as easy to locate as he thought.

It overlooked a bay named Blue Cove which was deceptively calm and the only way one could reach it was by airplane or by going up a highway in Delaware to an area that was cut off. From there you went along a country road (of which there were several) until you got to the highway again and traveled up to the town of Blue Cove. It was not on any map, only the one the old man gave him and it was years old.

Jack had worked undercover before he joined the agency and that came in handy. He got a tour of the Centre that was going through renovations and when no one was looking, sneaked into the sublevels, and found more than what he looked for.

They had people working and doing simulations, and men looking after them, possibly to see that no intruders stopped the project. He took the elevator to the main level, did some more spying, went into offices, took photographs, and then said, "thank you for the tour" and left.

The photographs and the videos he copied showed that the Centre had worked on something called The Pretender Project which in essence was to find someone extremely intelligent who could be so absolved in a role that he or she became that person, and then have make him perform simulations It also said that they would try to keep the Pretender Project going for generations, the generations produced by the original Pretender and that tests would be made on certain females until the desired offspring was produced.

"So a genius gets to stay rent free in the Centre, and does the sims, some of which have been sold to unscrupulous people," he told the chief when he showed him the photographs.

"That does need investigation." The chief leaned back in his chair, his dark eyes intense in a reddish brown face. "I hope it's more interesting that getting false reports about moon shiners back home."

"Troublemakers?"

"Yes Jack troublemakers. Of course, if this is a false alarm, we can always send you up there."

The chief and flipped through the folder, while tapping his fingers on the desk and then suddenly stopped when he saw the photograph of a man he recognized. It had been a brief encounter, just seeing him drive up to a police station. He then turned to his laptop, and searched through it until he came to the same man and he was associated with another agent. An enemy of hers had framed his agent and she had three kids born prematurely. The date of their conception corresponded to the time that man in the photograph was with her. Was there a connection?

He dialed Quantico and finally reached information. He gave the receptionist his name and finally got through to a friend of his. After engaging in a bit of conversation, he got to his intent. "You know Bob, my gout has been acting up lately so I've had to stop going into the field and take this desk job."

Bob laughed. "That's an excuse if there ever was one."

"Oh by the way, that FBI agent, Rachel Burke, you wouldn't know where she's stationed?" He waited for a while.

"It says here in Hartford, Connecticut. She's still with the VCTF."

"Yes," said the chief, "I have their number. By the way, what's her home address. I might drop over to see her kids." He waited until Bob gave him the information plus that Charles liked antique cars, David's favorite hero was Superman, and Naomi had a Barbie doll. "Thanks Bob." He then closed the connection and dialed the VCTF where he learned that Miss Burke had left for the day. However, she must have been out for all he got was a message at her home address.

"So?" asked Jack.

"She must be having a date. I'll get a hold of her later. Now tell me about this ah Centre."

"According to an unknown source, it contains 26 levels above and 26 levels below. SL 26 used to be a Sim lab. Rumor is it that it had a sublevel 27," said Jack.

"Interesting. You said used to be."

"Well it appeared that much of the sublevels were unoccupied, intended to keep what was down there, down. There were several offices, something that looked like a maternity ward, but the sublevel above and below each occupied level had cameras, and what looked like living quarters, saw plug ins for TVs, fridges, beds, some beer cans. From what I saw it would've been quite luxurious. Oh they had a sublevel five to twelve where they had a hospital, infirmary, tech lab, incinerator, and living quarters. I took photographs." He gave them to the chief.

"So what are the sims used for?"

"Actually chief, until recently the Centre sold the sims to various organizations. Remember the earthquake in San Francisco, how that bridge collapsed? The Centre had a sim some years back showing what would happen if the bridge was reinforced and what would happen if it was not. Then there is the case of that new vaccination. They sold the sim to a radical Middle East group that used it to wipe out a rival tribe. And remember that massacre of our own by the Medina Cartel? That was based on a Centre sim."


	12. Getting it Off Your Chest

I lived way before political correctness. A person who has a low iq because his brain has been damaged by natural or chemical means or his mother had German measles can't by his or her sheer will power increase it. Therefore I will not use the modern political correct term in this chapter.

CHAPTER TWELVE

Sydney been so busy listening to this Centre employee tell of his or her problems, that he forgot the little incidents of stealing from his movie reels and camcorder tapes until he went down to the incinerator and found the movie cans with the title "Do Not Convert." Thinking it was a mistake, he called Miss Parker who was busy overseeing Margaret's change to a full Homo Dominant. This process would take considerable time, months rather than days.

He called her on his office phone. "Look Miss Parker," said Sydney, "these were valuable films used in the training of Jarod. Who ordered them destroyed?"

"I have no idea. Jarod, did you?"

"I don't have the authority."

"Well do you know who would?" she demanded.

"One person who's very close to both of us."

Accepting this as truth, she returned to her conversation with Sydney, "Frederick's too young to make that decision, and Margaret would have to obey her husband, and Charles —no Margaret, I'm not talking about Major Charles, but Charles Lewison, my son-in-law —would have no interest in destroying any of your property. Let me get back to you."

"Before you do, can I tell you what was destroyed?" asked the psychiatrist.

"Okay what?"

"The film on Martin Luther King, and the film on the crowd who felt betrayed."

"Prejudice. Oh, what type of people?"

"I gave an example of African Americans, since they were a persecuted minority."

"I think I know who's responsible. Sydney, do you have any other examples of persecution?"

"No Miss Parker."

"Well I suggest you buy some videos on other persecuted groups that are not racially motivated. I went through Jarod's training DSAs and found some disturbing connection between them and his Pretends. He seems to associate the ills visited on the victims with their race rather than their circumstances. Oh and Sydney, I've hired another psychiatrist to help you." With that she hung up.

Sydney was finding it hard to breath. Ever since Carthis, he had found he got tired moiré easily, but he largely ignored it as he ignored the doctor's admonition to increase the fiber in his diet and check his cholesterol He told the doctor since he keep his weight at an optimum level, high blood pressure was not a problem.

"I'm afraid it is," the doctor had said, "You have a family history of high cholesterol and you have to follow a strict regimen. That means the Mediterranean diet. You may have what we used to call Nordic ancestry, but we find that even in the case of those of Nordic and German ancestry who have lived since the fifth and six century in the South of France like the Burgundians, and in Italy, like the Lombards, if they do not adapt to the diet there, they wind up having problems."

"But Doctor, what about when they lived up North?"

"They had a sufficient number of grain products that included bran as well as beans and that protected them. But once they got down here, they wanted to eat what the rich people did. That reduced their numbers. By the way, the middle class grew. You will have to substitute whole grain pasta products for regular semolina. Cut down on your fat, or substitute olive oil. Avoid anything processed. Cut down on your fatty red meat, no large T-bone steaks, a small one once or twice a week would be sufficient. Use ground lean rather than regular. Use meat in casseroles. Increase your vegetables and salads and a serving of fish two or three times a week would help."

Sydney loved to have a glass of white wine or some beer when he was alone. He also preferred his steak to be liberally streaked with fat. He had said a reluctant yes to the doctor, took the prescription to the drug store, and then had gone back to the Centre.

Well he had more problems. He learned that Nicholas was in the Appalachians working for _Second Harvest_. Apparently the young man had gotten in it through the influence of a certain Antonio Lambourni who returned from a Lambourni funeral and probably visiting the family court. According to Nicholas' email, Antonio's supposed parents didn't register his adoption and the Lambournis were in America illegally. However, since that lawyer had not been influenced by them, and had lived a good part of his life in Mexico and had obtained citizenship there, he was granted duel citizenship retroactively.

The Lambournis were allowed to stay on compassionate grounds, but now Paolo dead and Vincente on his own, the court gave the order for their deportation, and they were on their way back to Italy. There was also evidence of child abuse and neglect. Certainly in the way that the mentally handicapped son Paolo had died was suspect. The medical evidence showed that his retardation and physical problems was not due to an inherited condition but what the mother put in his milk and his food. She felt that having a retarded son would increase her "Aid for dependant children" and that they would miss her husband's take on stolen money from gambling and prostitution. They didn't. Antonio and later Vincente were spared during their childhood because a neighbor took them in and breastfed them. So Antonio was free of the Lambournis, and was in the process of getting his surname changed. Nicholas said he would be back in Blue Cove as soon as the trouble was over.

Sydney went back to waiting for his next appointment and wondering why he needed another psychiatrist. He missed his sessions with Jarod, training him, and influencing him to be a help, not like Raines who really messed with his charges, and the other handlers who were quite indifferent. He had never associated with the other handlers. Raines was also a psychiatrist as well as having been a regular doctor so Sydney felt a common bond.

The man who appeared at the door was no one who Sydney recognized; he was about fifty with graying hair and going bald in the forehead. He was a little shorter than Sydney, and a little wider. He had green eyes, and his face appeared rather disarmingly pleasant. He shook Sydney's hand. "You must be Dr. Green."

"Yes I am." Right away he knew this was not a patient.

"I'm Dr. Colin Colby. I'm supposed to be working with you."

"Do you have your credentials?"

He handed them over. Dr. Colby was no Freudian. He wa a Christian Psychiatrist who had also studied the Adler method. Right away, Sydney knew this was Antonio's doing.

They got to discuss Jarod first and how The Pretender blamed himself for the sims being used wrongly.

"Actually," said Colby, "he shouldn't. Have you objected when he did?" He shuffled the papers.

"No. I believed we held responsibility, Doctor Green."

"So you let him believe that he was responsible."

"We all are."

"And had you known the simulations were not used as intended, would you continue?"

"I had no choice. I needed to survive." Sydney didn't like the look in Colby's eyes.

"Jarod had no choice. You had. Someone has to tell him he's not responsible. Shall I?"

"But we are all responsible for our actions."

"No he did not willingly consent to let his sims be used for evil. You told him it was to do good, therefore I believe you should hold the entire blame." He got on the telephone. "I'm going to explain to Miss Parker. If I can't persuade you to absolve Jarod of his guilt, perhaps she can."

Sydney was in a predicament. This Colby was going too far. He had to stop him, but that gun that Colby held in his right hand persuaded him not to.

"Hello Miss Parker?"

"You must be Dr. Colby."

"The same. I just recently learned before taking this position that the simulations that Jarod performed for the Centre were used for evil purposes without his knowledge and that he blames himself for them. Did you send him the information?"

"Of course I did."

"Why? Out of maliciousness?"

There was a noticeable pause before she answered. "I was told to hate Jarod, that he was just a thing. Why I didn't believe that I could have children, because their species were beneath us, but I believed that he didn't know that my father and uncle sold the sims to the highest bidder. I thought if I did so, he would give up and come back to the Centre and I would make sure that only benevolent buyers purchased the sims. He belongs here."

"I understand. Now Miss Parker, do you truly believe that Jarod holds responsible for the sims."

"No. The information was not for him, it was for Sydney. Jarod is my property now. Just a moment, Doctor Colby."

He heard her press the hold button. Twenty minutes later, she came back on the line. "I tried to get him to believe that he shouldn't feel guilty. It'll take time. When he asked before, I told him my father and uncle lied to Sydney deliberately. But I figured the Pretenders were not even human so even if Sydney told him the truth, he would go do the sims instinctually. It's only in the last year or so, I realized that Jarod and the other Pretenders are different types of humans."

"Thank you, Miss Parker. If he's free, I want to have an appointment with him."

"Very well. Howe about ten o'clock tomorrow?" He heard an audible click and waited a few minutes later. "Oh by the way, I'll be down shortly."

"I have someone else but I'll let you know when you get down here" He hung up the phone.

"Do you mean that Miss Parker has an appointment?" asked Sydney, "I thought that I was in charge."

"Well actually, it's with my wife. I figured they'd have much in common. I'm hardly home and I do love boxing. My wife on the other hand —" He grinned.

The two men spent an hour discussing various cases and their schools of psychiatry. Sydney was a Freudian, but Colby studied under the Adler school. He also had a different terminology. The idea of closure was foreign to him. You never got over a parent's death or what had happened to you as a child, but these things need not affect you. His wife also had the same philosophy.

"Maybe you'd like to meet my wife," Colby said.

"I would." They left the office and walked to the one across the hall and what they saw amazed them.

There was a large photograph of Raines on the wall and Miss Parker was throwing darts at it while a small woman with dark wavy hair in a bun who wore a grey suit with a red silk blouse was encouraging her.

"That's it, Miss Parker, keep it up."

"Take that, you walking corpse. That's for killing my mother! That's for making me hate my only best friend. That's for trying to kill Daddy! That's for —" By the time the photograph was ruined with all the dart marks, she sat down, took a cup of herb tea, and smiled. "You're right. That does make me feel better."

"Now can we get down to talking?"

"Yes," said Miss Parker in an unusual pleasant voice. "It's amazing. I wasn't able to talk about things to Sydney. You can really understand how I feel."

"Correct Miss Parker," said Mrs. Colby, "men are so misunderstanding. Now you say you love Jarod and you hate him. Well tell you the truth, with my husband, he's a fanatic about boxing. Every time I see him turn the TV station to the latest bout, and I want to watch the Discovery Channel, I just want to kill him."

Sydney closed the door and followed Colby back to his office. By the way, Mrs. Colby was going, he'd be the next complainant on the list.


	13. The Angels

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

The interviews with Doctor Colby went fine and Miss Parker returned to the Tower to see that Jarod looking rather concerned.

"What's the matter? Miss the outside?" she asked.

"No, it's Patricia."

She looked at her small daughter. "She looks all right."

"But she doesn't sound all right."

"Your kind don't get colds." She picked up Patricia and in a soft voice asked. "Are you feeling ill Patricia?"

"No," said the little girl, "I won't feel ill." She showed her mother a drawing. "I'm going to see the Angels."

"Do you mean Los Angeles, sweetness?"

"No the Angels."

"Maybe she means the team," said Jarod, who like a man first thought about sports rather than heavenly beings.

Miss Parker looked at her daughter and back at Jarod. "I think she means something else. Patricia, have you been feeling ill?"

The little girl shook her head. "No, I dream of a big angel and he's taking me somewhere."

"Maybe she has your inner sense."

"No Jarod, I no longer have it. There's no evidence." Miss Parker didn't miss her inner sense. She knew what it was. It had been hard to realize that what she had seen was not the vision of the little girl, or what she and Ethan heard were not really their mother's voice. She should've known it was a demon had she attended Mass or even read her catechism, but like all Parkers, her belief was just a show. Even when she confronted Father Paul about the time he and her were lovers back in high school, it was just show. Let the others see that the Parkers are very good Roman Catholics, but just go to the Easter and Christmas Mass and that's all.

Now that they had children, she had to think seriously about bringing them up correctly .As for Jarod, she was sure that he didn't want the boys turning into murderers or the girls becoming promiscuous. In other words, he didn't want the kids becoming like the old Parkers.

What Miss Parker had now was not inner sense. She remembered her mother's voice, but it was in her memories. She had a heightened sense of awareness. She realized that the removal of the curse had blessed her with the gift of humanity. She was no longer enslaved to her demons. She no longer was cursed with false leadings. If she had gotten the curse removed over five years ago, Jarod would have been in the Centre before now.

But Patricia was different. She couldn't ask Jarod if Dominant children can sense into the future. Perhaps Patricia had a death wish or perhaps it was trouble comes in threes. Lady M had almost killed Patricia. Patricia jumped off the Centre roof and would've been killed, but what about when Lady M slit the other children's' throats? Would that mean that it would be three times and out for them? Miss Parker started to feel cold.

"Patricia, do you mean you're going to Heaven?" she asked, "Are you going alone?"

"No. The man who smiles."

Miss Parker's mouth went open. "Sydney. Jarod get the Centre medical doctor on the phone. See if he brings up the records of my children and Sydney."

"Will do."

Jarod, naturally, not only telephoned the doctor, he found the records in the computer and showed them to Miss Parker. All their children were in excellent health, but Sydney was not. "It says that he has high cholesterol, suffering from hardening of the arteries, and already had a mini stroke."

"But he seems so healthy."

"It says here that they went back into the family records, found some relatives with the same problems. Would've found it sooner but when Sydney's family were killed in the gas chamber, no one knew if he had any other relatives."

"And where are they?"

"They're all dead. It said they were medically unfit. They found out through Nicholas. He had to have a compulsory health examination and found he too had High C. He's taking treatment and on a diet, so he'll probably live past his eighties. They also examined his mother's records. She's clean."

"So that leaves Sydney."

"Look I have to find the bodies of my grandparents, Miss Parker. You said I can look for them."

She waved her hand. "The equipment's in Sublevel Four. Take some of the others to work with you. There's also one of those metal detectors, just in case they have gold teeth or something. You can use the lab in Sublevel Three and the DNA test. You'll have to test all the Pretenders and get the records from those given to the others."

"Right." He waited until she pressed the release code and went down the elevator to Sublevel Four.

Meanwhile Miss Parker waited until the Doctor came and told her the news.

"Dr. Green doesn't have long to live, a month or two at the most."

"And my little Patricia?"

"Children know things that we adults don't. Even children like her. No, it's not suicide nor does she want this to happen. You see, they've just been on this Earth for a little space. With her, I don't know. An accident, perhaps a stray bullet, you can delay it by a year or two, or whatever, but God's calling her."

Miss Parker didn't know what to think. She knew that in the Pretender or Dominant families the woman had four children at a time and by the time she reached twenty, bore eighteen or so children. Half of them died through accidents or deliberate murder. The Centre was not the only one who hunted, enslaved, and murdered those with the Pretender gene, that is, those who were now found out to be Homo Dominants. She had heard about the so called Limo Lady and her gang of pseudo military soldiers. And there were other homo sapiens who believed that the sooner they wiped out these Pretenders or Homo Dominants, the sooner the better.

If Patricia was destined to go to God, Miss Parker was dammed sure that whoever sent her to her death would meet a terrible fate.


	14. Digging for Evidence

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Unaware of his daughter's preoccupation with Angels, Jarod organized a search for the bodies. For this he required the work of the descendants of the first Pretenders, that is, those who were captured along with their Homo Sapien parents back in the years from 1946 through to approximately 1954. However having been at The Centre all their lives, they were not used to the outside. Even Ted, whose ancestry was in doubt, and who had been outside for a while with the notorious head of the Barbie Gang, was more apt to climb the walls.

So Jarod went to Michael, Giuseppe's brother, who being Gino's son, often went out, along with several sweepers, to purchase stuff for The Centre. He also considered asking Gino for help —after all he was his son via that Sicilian girl who was probably in the Centre Italian building — but didn't think that Cox would spare him.

As it were, things were starting up. They already had the metal detectors to search for gold fillings or rings that their ancestors had on them. The laboratory was set up for the autopsies and they already had the equipment to process the DNA if they found any that was viable.

"We'll start digging here," said Jarod pointing to a section near the back wall near The Centre conservatory.

"And where else?" asked Ted.

"The Centre takes in quite a lot of territory. I doubt that Lamech Parker would have wanted the bodies buried more than one hundred feet from the sublevel entrance." He paced at least twenty feet from the door where they processed The Pretenders. "Now we'll have to search for areas that look as if they have been planted."

"That is impossible. Except for the Conservatory and the-ah gardens, most of the Centre is grass, well not counted the bushes and the columns," said Ted with a snicker.

"Well since you and I were locked up during our time here; perhaps we can ask someone whose been walking these grounds."

"You mean the Packrats?" Ted looked at Jarod with surprise. "They belong to Lambourni now."

"Well he's still in Kentucky." Jarod handed him his cell phone. "Some of his sons are at home."

"Okay."

The Packrats soon arrived, probably by the same method of jumping over walls that their Master was proficient at. They went over to one area, and the oldest boy said, "Here."

It didn't appear much different from the rest – planting grass holds a multitude of sins or bodies — however on evacuating the plot, Ted did find the skeletal remains of an infant. "It's their sister, oh wait." He dug a little farther. "And their mother."

And then Jarod had an idea. "Raines wouldn't have buried them here if this wasn't a regular burial ground. We'll start digging around this area and enlarge it."

Everyone who was there grabbed the shovels, but that is not what Jarod wanted. "Michael, you get the stuff for the DNA prepared, Jay you help Ted in the first section over by that wall, Lars you and Pete do the section besides them. Kay you make sure to sort the bones, if we find them and take them into the lab. I've kept the doors open."

In five minutes, he had everything organized and things were going on well. So far, they had found at least ten skeletons and the first tests for their origins had begun when all of them suddenly stopped, their five minute sense had kicked in. "Someone's coming," said Pete.

Jarod snapped his fingers. At once, they all took out their guns. Yes, even though they were all slaves in The Centre, the new heads had taken the precaution of giving them all a weapon. You never knew if Raines, Lyle, or Mr. Parker had some associates who wanted The Centre back to what it once was and if any of the Sweepers decided that Miss Parker wasn't strong enough to rule The Centre.

Well actually Miss Parker, with the insistence of her son, had just read Romeo and Juliet and noted that even the retainers had weapons. True, she didn't have any rapiers, but revolvers and pistols would do just as well. Of course, Jarod did have a gun. After all, he belonged to her, and he had sworn to protect her —although not in that many words. Anyway, she as much as told Jarod and the others if they didn't defend The new Centre, well, there were certain plots in the Blue Cove cemetery that needed filling with their bodies — not that they would not have defended her anyway.

They took the skeletons inside and waited for the confrontation except for Michael who was busy trying to attach this skull to that bone. He also had to do the DNA tests and was thinking of asking Miss Parker to put a forbidden notice on the Medical examiner shows.

The car engines became louder and they could see the men getting out, men in SWAT uniforms, men in suits, men with ammunition, men with law enforcement written over their faces.

"Okay," said one of the officers, "Michaels you, and Jenson search the back area. Cosby, you, and Wilkerson go that way." He pointed to the area where Jarod and the others were digging.

The Pretenders clutched their guns. It looked like a small army was approaching.

"They'll find what's going on," said Pete.

"Then we have to defray them," said Jarod. There wasn't much time for deception or guilty looks as they kept digging for the evidence of Lamech Parker's crime.

"Here's one more," said Ted, almost hitting the SWAT member with his shovel.

"Okay put it with the others." Jarod acted as if the law officers were just a minor convenience.

Wilkerson then leered over him, well almost considering Jarod was taller than he was. "So how long have these been here?" .

"Way before I was born," said Jarod,"now, I have to report to Miss Parker and tell her what we found. Don't know how she'll take it after finding that her grandfather killed her grandmother — What's going on here?" He did an appropriate turn around, showing the correct expression of annoyance

"That's what we'd like to know," said Wilkerson. "Name's Special Agent Wilkerson. Don't anyone move. Search them."

"They all have weapons."

"Well well well."

"I don't see any," said Ted.

"Oh a wise guy huh?" asked Wilkerson. "Who's in charge here?"

They all looked at Jarod.

"Okay now you can tell me what's going on?"

"It's very simple. Miss Parker inherited The Centre from her father. She's just learned that her grandfather murdered her grandmother. The records are in the Blue Cove Medical Examiner's file if you'd want to look. She suspects that her grandmother may have been killed to cover up some crimes which as you can see," Jarod pointed towards the excavation holes, "we have just discovered. Now give us back our weapons."

"No way," said Wilkerson who walked over and looked at the skeletons. "Seems they've been here longer than I've been alive. Are you sure you're not covering up the evidence of some crime?"

"Discovering the evidence. If you want to see the proof, there's several DVDs in Miss Parker's office which we converted from old films and a letter that Mrs. Parker wrote to her family in France telling them that she saw her husband and his associate dragging two bodies out of that door." He pointed to the door that led to the laboratory where Michael was working.

"Okay, Owens, go to Miss Parker's office. It's probably on the top floor. See if she's got a letter from a Mrs. Parker about witnessing the evidence of a crime. It'll be in French. Oh and you, what's your name?"

"Jarod."

"How'd he know what to look for?" asked Wilkerson.

"It was written on May 12, 1953."

"Owens did you get that?"

Owens nodded his head. "Right."

"Okay now we'll all go in the front way." Wilkerson bowed slightly, while opening his right arm towards the front entrance of The Centre.


	15. The Poor You Shall Always Have With You

Second Harvest is a good organization that distributes food and goods to the poor here in America. Since there was not an episode showing Jarod helping this organization, indirectly or directly, I decided to have Nicholas and my invented character, Antonio Lambourni do the work that the writers of the episodes failed to have Jarod do.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Antonio and Nicholas were working at distributing food and goods for the poor for _Second Harvest_. This area of Kentucky was far from the racing tracks where elegantly dressed women with their husbands watched _High Spirited Hill of Dale_ beat _Mountain of the Setting Sun _win by a dead heat.

Here the people had to contend with dead end jobs, factory closings, and even their practice of gathering herbs to sell to the various health food stores showed diminishing success. Many of the plants in the area were in danger of extinction and because of this the health food chains were raising their own rather than depreciate the dwindling plant life.

Because of desperation, some of the mothers actually left their babies at the hospital or at the local churches, hoping that someone would take pity and take the little tyke home with them and there were the vultures. These scum preyed on the poor, not checking the background of the adoptive parents, so that at least four children died when placed in their new homes. One baby, Lambourni learned, had a medical condition that required he be given a special diet. The adoptive parents and the natural mother had asked him for the name of a good lawyer to sue the Black market Adoption Agency who neglected to give the adoptive parents that information. The lawyer agreed to work pro bono.

However, help was on the way. For those mothers who truly intended to give up their children for adoption, a private adoption agency had been started in that area. They selected the adoptive parents according to strict guidelines. They had strict psychological tests, frequent and unexpected home visits, often disguising themselves as neighbors, salespeople, etc. The agents were wise enough to know when for instance, the housewife answered the door in her negligee expecting her husband, or when the couple had a spat. They even knew not to worry if the house was a bit messy. But that was not the end.

They checked the backgrounds, religion, and even the color of the potential parents, knowing that one aspect of insecurity of adoptive parents was people knowing that the child was adoptive, different eyes or hair color, chubby when the parents were tall and thin, etc. Besides, unfortunately, not all birth reunions turned out well. The adoptive agency hoped to avoid that and for those in which reunions were possible, to have the birth mother say, "I knew my baby was in a safe place, they're common folks like me."

However, they made sure the potential adoptive parents were financially secure and at a higher tax bracket, so the birth mother didn't think she was selfish for giving up her child.

In some cases such as that poor infant who had died, they even refused adoption if the potential parents were not potential blood or bone marrow donors. They were so strict that Antonio told, "I know they would never consider me, but I'm afraid you won't make it either."

"Really you'd make a better parent," said Nicholas, "I'd be afraid the kid would overdose on the pills in my medicine cabinet."

"That's too bad. Tried the natural approach?"

"Here." Nicholas pulled a sheet out of his pocket. "That'd be enough to discourage anyone." He started to name all the traditional medicines that would react negatively with his present set of pills, not to mention the foods he had to avoid and his teacher's salary was too high to allow for prescription deductions.

"Maybe now that The Centre is no longer, ah, evil, they can work on a cure."

"Sure, but I heard that Miss Parker's now in charge."

"And me. I can have someone look into the type of herbs and foods you can eat, and make them taste like whatever you like."

"Like the dish my mother used to make? What did she call it _Cassoulet_?"

"Sounds like Fridge Cleaner to me."

"Fridge Cleaner?"

"Throw everything that you have left into the casserole and put it in the oven."

Nicholas laughed and then turned to the woman with two girls besides her. They all looked tired. That was one thing about the people around here, their lethargy not by marrying in their teens but by the lack of opportunity. People here married as soon as legally able and if they were expecting, before that.

He had done what he could by volunteering for the literacy program, but he felt he needed to do more and when Mr. Lambourni — you didn't call a man like him Antonio just like that — suggested that he help with _Second Harvest_, Nicholas had agreed. Perhaps the children were illiterate because they were too hungry. That assumption was correct and already the school grade point average had increased double. They were now producing pupils with Bs and As rather than the C minus and Ds previous.

"My man's left me." She said that as if it were common. "We aint got any money."

Nicholas reached into this briefcase for a voucher. "Take that to that line over there."

"Thank you sir." She loped out followed by her girls.

"Wait a minute," said Antonio, "Are you any good with medical herbs?"

She turned. "Yes sir."

"We're looking for someone to transplant of various herbal vegetation and someone with the knowledge of their growth seasons."

"What?"

"Oh what he means," said Nicholas, "is the new plant_, Kentucky Nature' Herbal Remedies_ wants someone to work in their gardening department. It'll be from nine thirty to three, so you can drop your girls off at school. You'll have to make sure none of the plants get mixed up, fertilizing, etc. Minimum wage starting, but you'll get more. Interested?"

Her face beamed. "Sure would!"

Nicholas smiled. It was sure good to change people's lives, to make them better. He watched Antonio who was now talking to a strange man, one that was new to these parts. After the man left, Lambourni got on his cell phone.

A few minutes later, Antonio came over to him. "I have to leave for Delaware. I've let Max know. He'll be here in five minutes." Max was another volunteer who lived in the area. "It appears there's trouble there."

"My father?"

"I hope not. I also hope my father's not in danger either."

"Sorry. I wasn't thinking. Anyway most of the groundwork has been done here."

Nicholas watched Lambourni get in his van and leave. Whatever it was, he hoped that the lawyer would get back to The Centre before anything went wrong. If anyone died, Nicholas felt he would never forgive himself.


	16. The Long Arm of the Law

It appears that Jarod and Miss Parker won't go on their trip to find out their origins if the law has its way. How are they going to get out of this situation? Who's at the door? Lambourni or is it someone else? And if it were Lambourni, remember he used to work for the Mob.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Miss Parker sat down on her chair nursing the youngest, and reading the letter that came up on the screen, which, along with others, Jarod had scanned into the computer. It was much easier than opening an envelope or reading it while all her children tried to get her attention.

Jarod had done more than scan the letters most which he put together after Mr. Parker or Raines put them through the shredder, but he had put links to certain files. He was sure glad The Centre changed its disposal tactics, figuring it would be easy to shred them and carry the bag down to the incinerator. They didn't reckon on Angelo and the others "ghosts" in the Centre retrieving the evidence.. It was horrify to see all the evil written down just as factual data. Seeing the immense damage The Centre had done made her ashamed of her blasé attitude when she first started to pursue Jarod.

Things were different. For the last few days, Miss Parker had sent letters, information out to various law enforcement agencies and the military. She had an advantage over Jarod. He could only do one person or one family at a time. She could reach thousands and when she read her newspaper and heard of a certain strong man kicked out his office, or heard of a drug now banned by the FDA, she knew she had a small part in removing that evil.

"Mother footsteps," said Jarvis.

Miss Parker turned, careful not to dislodge the youngest from her breast. She did not want to admit to Jarod that she really wasn't the motherly type and if she did, the baby might start squeaking, she'd get angry. So she pretended that this was the cutest baby in the whole world instead of the little squawking thing she was and that when she got old enough, she could wear a Parisian original as if she was born to it. "Maybe it's Uncle Broots."

"Mr. Broots no relation."

She smiled. "It's a term that we use, for grown up friends. We call the women, Aunts, and the men, Uncles, Jarvis. Now I've got to read this letter." She put the youngest down in the bassinette that one of the Centre "employees" had made. It was quite well done, although she didn't approve of that cave woman scene, but since the Pretenders were in reality hunters, it was original — a Cro-Magnon woman brandishing a spear fighting off a Sabre Tooth Tiger, while her man is in the distance fighting off a cave bear.

"Grandfather's writing. Grandfather Funny Mouth." Jarvis climbed up and looked at the screen, the innocence of a baby, no not really a baby, a toddler.

"You can only make out a few words, can't you, Jarvis?" _I hope_, she thought. It still appeared strange to have a child not yet two who looked older than his years, but then Major Charles had fooled The Centre to believing his son was older than he really was.

Jarvis climbed down and went over to the puzzle that Sam had put on the table. All the other children, except for the infants, were busy trying to put the pieces together and looking at Sam like little vultures.

"Now no bothering Uncle Sam," said Miss Parker.

"Right," said Jeremiah and motioned to his siblings. He had something behind his back.

_Something was up_, she thought. "Sam, could you see Dr. Colby and find when Jarod's appointment is?"

"Is he a bother?" asked the sweeper.

"No, but Eileen Danvers, the new secretary, had a dental appointment today, and Dr. Colby said since she couldn't make it, he'd ask Jarod to come in instead. Everyone here's going."

"He has Sydney."

"Sydney is too close. Oh when's yours?"

"Next Thursday at nine a.m. unless something comes up or I survive" He looked suspiciously at the children and left, leaving five little disappointed faces and Miss Parker to read the letter.

'Angel. If you read this, you know that I am dead. Perhaps my heart gave up, or old age, but no matter, there is something you have to know. You wondered why I married Brigitte and why so long after your mother's death? Yes, I suspected my brother, Abel, but hadn't the courage to stop him.

When we brought Jarod into the Centre, we knew there was something different about him. My father had told me of these imitators, he called them pretenders and that term stuck. We had Sydney, our psychiatrist handle him, and Jarod become our most valuable commodity.

I watched while the doctors took samples and the first spawn grew. But then, I failed to see the coldness of my brother's face whom my father and mother thought was too weak to survive. It took years to find him, but when you and your brother were born, we took precautions by naming your brother Lyle, and Raines arranged his adoption with a family in which the father had the same first name. You can't separate a Parker.'

"So that's how Daddy was able to find him," she said aloud.

"Find who?" asked an unfamiliar voice.

Miss Parker turned. Jarod and his crew were there along with several men whose clothes shouted Law Enforcement and they were rather threatening.

"I'm reading a letter. Could you come back later?" she snapped.

"Perhaps I should read it with you," said the strange man showing her his badge. "Agent Riley, FBI."

"Oh go ahead, you intend to do it anyway."

'But enough of our history. I knew I couldn't have children, and yet I didn't want another child of Raines. Your mother, God bless her, was a good woman but she fought against The Centre. The World needs a strong influence, we're it. An accident in the lab, destroyed, I thought, the results of Jarod's donations, but when I had the team investigate, I found it was no accident. It was my brother's doing. He destroyed only those with an X chromosome so to have an excuse to make a clone.'

"X chromosome?" asked Riley.

"Male," said Miss Parker, thinking, _idiot._

"Why?"

"Oh you know people think women are more docile." She gave him her sweetest evil smile and continued reading, seeing how this big strong FBI agent shook.

'Well Angel, all was not lost. I found a batch of the DNA that had the X chromosomes. However since there were an excess of the female DNA, I had those thrown in the incinerator. You know about biology, too much inbreeding and the stock deteriorates. The Centre and the Triumvirate is expanding. There is a demand for more Pretenders and with those milk cartons, we cannot go and get them the old way. I arranged for certain donors, poor women who needed to carry something inside even if it was one of Jarod's spawn. As you know The Centre felt it unnecessary to continue using our female staff, so many going in and out of the Renewal wing.'

Miss Parker gasped at how her father had used women as breeders, not only those of the staff who were put through the renewal wing and later went back to work as if nothing happened, but poor disenfranchised women off the streets who later disappeared permanently. "He didn't!"

"Didn't what?" asked the law enforcement officer.

Miss Parker just glared at him and Jarod did as well. Only the latter had a murderous look on his face.

"If you're looking to find that I had anything to do with this, you're mistaken. All our mail, email, and regular is time stamped. See?" she asked.

"Okay, but what does this prove other than The Centre is responsible for the death of thousands."

"That few?" asked Jarod, "I thought it was more like millions."

"It seems you know more than you let on."

"Yes I do, Agent Riley. The Centre kidnapped, stole, or bred a certain type of individual, a genius who is able to take on the personality and characteristics of another. They set up several fronts, including the Nugenesis Fertility clinic to find out the parents who would produce that type."

"Oh come on."

"It's true," said Miss Parker, "we thought that the Nugenesis clinic experimented with the DNA of the specific couples, you know add a certain gene to the batch that would make the kid set fires just by thinking."

Jarod's mouth gaped open.

"Oh quit with the act of surprise. I checked and I know, you checked."

"Right. When The Centre isolated these individuals, kept them from learning about culture, gave them the information they wanted them to see, no radio, no television, no Christmas, no Easter, no Advent, no Birthdays, no —"

"I get the idea," said Riley, "so The Centre used these to perform the sims and these geniuses had no idea what the sims were used for."

Jarod added a bit more information for emphasis. "Or if they objected, they were either punished or assured that the sim was to protect the evil."

"And it depended on the whim of their employers, I suppose," said Riley, still not convinced that someone as smart as a genius could be kept in the dark as to the true purpose of the simulations.

"If your handler was Raines, you'd get punished, but if it was Sydney, you'd be assured. He suspected but —" Jarod took out a file and handed it to Riley who read through it.

"I'll get back to you, Miss Parker," Riley said as he examined the written evidence of the Centre's crimes. "This is interesting."

Meanwhile Miss Parker got back to the letter giving the reason for her father's marriage to Brigitte. .

'Raines destroyed most of Jarod's male sperm so to have an excuse to create a clone. As for the others, that I saved, the Centre would place the children in certain of our satellites and to make sure that none of the male spawn met with an accident, I called on the son of a friend of mine, a friend who owed me a favor for putting his son through medical school.'

Jarod looked over Miss Parker's shoulders. "That must be Cox." He made a mental calculation. "That method is similar to that used by the Costa Nostra, known colloquially as a favor you can't refuse."

"Well let me finish reading."

"When was this written?" asked Riley"

She looked at the date on the letter. It was written soon after Brigitte's death."

'Yes The Centre and the Triumvirate knew about Brigitte when she first went to work for them and of her peculiar medical situation. I called my secretary who left the appropriate message on Raines' desk — he believes she's his secretary. Of course, I never expected her to try to kill me, I thought I could get hold of her first, but Raines was quicker.

'I had the doctor destroy all the sperm except those of Jarod and fertilized one of your eggs I implanted in Brigitte and made Raines believe he was the father, by substituting the child's DNA. Brilliant, Angel.

'Oh about the child. He'll have everything and when the time comes, if I die, you will be in charge of his training. If you bring him to the Tower, remember that you must guard him carefully The child will be a Super Pretender, the most valuable possession and you and Lyle will be his masters."

_So_, thought Miss Parker, _he would imprison, no enslave his own grand nephew to further the Centre goals and all the time, I thought Daddy was protecting me but no, I was just a donor to produce a Pretender and how many of my eggs has he taken to get the correct one?_

"You appear a bit annoyed," said Jarod.

"Of course I'm annoyed. All my father cared about was The Centre, not about my son."

"Well you knew it and that rivalry with your brother, although I could never understand why you cooperated with him."

"Because Lyle was my brother. I figured he'd change."

Jarod shook his head. "Lyle'll never have changed. You think that Raines corrupted him?"

She nodded.

"How long did it take for Raines to change him? Two years? Ten?"

She shook her head. It was not that long. The seeds of Lyle's nature were already growing inside him. If she and Jarod had stayed longer in Nevada after talking to his adoptive mother, they might have learned of small animals being tortured, other children being tormented — things which the then Bobby, would have kept hidden and which a loving mother would attribute to someone else. Miss Parker turned to see Riley go through her desk, find nothing, and then head for the closet. The FBI agent came out with a holster set complete with revolver and bullets and he was smiling. "Well what do we have here?"

"You put that back!"

"Why Miss Parker? Is there something you want to hide?"

"That's Jarod's Christmas present."

"A revolver?" asked Riley.

"Yes."

"And what did he get you, Miss Parker, a derringer?"

She shrugged her shoulder at his ignorance. "Of course not. Perfume."

Another agent brought out a detective's manual, a set of business cards with the title _Angel Investigations_ plus a letter from another company of the same name requesting that they had a trademark and would they please comply with their request and change their name. Attached to it was a copy of a letter that Miss Parker had sent out to the above company saying they would comply with their request. The new cards _Angela Investigations _were behind the stapler along with a copy of the registration from the Trademark Office. There was also another letter stating that "due to my pregnancy _The _

_Angela Investigations_ will be on hiatus until further notice.

"I guess with having four, no I mean, nine children around, you haven't much time, for ah investigating."

Miss Parker ignored Riley's sarcasm. She had had enough of this. She had done all she could to turn The Centre from evil unto good, not to mention about worrying that Patricia might die and now the law had come to destroy what little she had done.

She needed a miracle and now it looked as if no miracles were forthcoming. At that moment, there was a knock on the door.

"Thank you Blessed Mother," she prayed and went to open the door.


	17. Visitors

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

It was not who she expected, not her's and Jarod's oldest son, the rather vengeful Antonio Lambourni, now Antonio Waldo Lambourni Angela.

"Major Charles," she said, "Come on in." She didn't like the look on his face, downcast as if he was trying to keep from crying. "Is Gem all right?" Miss Parker always felt sorry for the boy, but with a little reservation remembering another boy she should have sympathized with but didn't.

"It's not Gem, it's Zoe. I'd like to talk to Jarod."

"Of course. Jarod, your father's here."

"I'd like to talk to him alone, Miss Parker, if you don't mind."

She heard a low grunted signal. Suddenly, she screamed. "Patricia, what are you doing with my Vogue magazines?"

"Mother mad." The little girl had a scissors in her hand and cuttings of various pictures of fashion models around her. She also had put on one of her mother's party dresses and by how she bent over, she was going to make it look like one of the pictures.

Miss Parker thought evil thoughts of the law officers who did not see what was going on. She did not blame Jarod. That stupid idi – Agent Riley had him cornered with questions and was hiding his view of the children.

They were talking about Michael. "Look he's perfectly capable," said Jarod, "besides I have an appointment now."

"You can cancel it. I doubt that you'll find much time in the pen."

"Wait a minute," said Wilkerson, "Maybe the Coroner can supervise. If the boy wants to be a medical examiner, maybe he can use a few pointers."

"Okay" said Riley and got on his cell phone. "Yes, down in the sublevels. There's a lab with a light on the outside. You go to the elevator, press the sub basement button, and after that — "when he finished, he turned to Jarod. "If what you say is true, that The Centre forced you to do what you did, and kept you ignorant, we won't prosecute. But I want evidence, pictures, tapes, videos, anything of any simulation you did and who it was sent to, plus what the Centre received."

Jarod agreed. It was the least he could do. Besides it would have taken too long to correct what he had done individually. These G-men could do it quicker and they would inform the CIA, Interpol, and the other law enforcement agencies. "I can get them. As well, I will give you information on what we are doing to change The Centre."

Riley's attitude softened and handed him his card. "Thank you, and if you find anything. Let me know. Now you can leave."

Jarod didn't want to miss his appointment, talking to someone who was not connected with the Centre, and then Miss Parker came over. "Your father's at the door. It's important," and then she rushed towards Patricia.

_Oh, oh_, thought Jarod, _maybe I should have Dr. Colby come here instead_, and then went to the door.

"Is there a place where we can be alone?" asked Major Charles.

"In there," said Jarod, pointing to another door.

It was a room that Mr. Parker had used for reflection as did Raines, Lyle, Miss Parker and who else was important enough to be here. Now it was just somewhere to lie down. The black leather couch was near the back, there were two leather chairs, a recliner, and a magazine rack with typical reading material designed to put one in a coma.

"Now what is it?" asked Jarod.

"It's Zoe. Her cancer's returned."

"But I thought it was in remission. How long has she got?" Jarod's face showed concern. "I could do something."

"I talked to the specialist and the Medicals. Even they can only do so much. They've increased her life so far, she should have died right after the children were born."

"She refused to take the medicine after she became pregnant." Jarod knew that was true.

"Actually they advised abortion, but she didn't want any. And the pregnancy delayed the effects of the cancer, but once the babies were born, she had to go on medication again, but she didn't want to lose her hair. The specialist gave her another that would not require chemotherapy plus she was on a diet."

Jarod listened to his father's chronology of Zoe's progress, her remission when Major Charles had rescued her from Lyle and Dr. Cox, and what happened afterwards, when he was not there, when he was a University Professor, and when Miss Parker captured him. The cancer had returned, and then another remission, one Major Charles never told when they found him in Miss Parker's house.

While he, Miss Parker, and the older kids were in California, the cancer had returned Jarod felt like crying, but he couldn't. It was as if tears would not be enough.

"Where is she?" he asked.

"_Saint Mary The Blessed Hospital_. She says her family came from this small village in Italy. Her grandparents always wanted her to go there, but now Zoe requested that perhaps you could take her children there. It hasn't changed since the fifth century."

"Of course," said Jarod, "It will be no trouble. We can take them." Getting visas and passports would be no trouble. The Centre had done this before, he had done it, but now he had to do it legally. It would not set an example for the children for him to forge papers.

Since Blue Cove and The Centre were officially not in the United States, and in limbo, The Centre issued their passports and visas under the supposed guidance of any world organizations. Right now it was the United Nations, NATO, and other international organizations, previously it had been the League of Nations or rather these were under the Centre, although they did not know it. He'd call from the hospital and get it all arranged and The Centre staff would send the papers and information by Federal Express. All they needed to do was sign it, and since Lambourni was a lawyer, it would be no problem. .

"There's also the question of custody. Zoe's family wants custody of the children, but I think they being Progenies, you' d be better at that," Major Charles said.

"I'll have to ask Margo, I mean Miss Parker. There's something else."

"Yes, Gem's aging. He's catching up to you. In a few years, possibly a few months, he'll look exactly like you. I heard through the intelligence system, as well as from Angelo, correction Tim, about a cryogenic unit."

"Do you want us to use it to retard Gem's aging process?" asked Jarod. Perhaps if Gem slept for eight to ten hours a night in the cryogenic tank, that would help. Jarod was not a Medical, although he had pretended to be one — "_Ï'm not a doctor, but I play one on TV."_— and the outside world had no use for cryogenic units except to store rich dead men with highly unusual diseases or conditions while waiting for a cure.

"I'd like to know the drawbacks."

:"Apart from the fact they destroyed the units, although we can reconstruct them, being in a cryogenic unit, you don't dream or you don't remember. Miss Parker was in one for almost a year. From what I heard, she kept seeing things. That's why they didn't find she had the inner sense until later. No one knew whether she was seeing dead people or dreaming."

"We have to risk it."

Jarod shook his head. "We'll have to give him sleeping pills and then move him in there for the night. Also we have to make sure to move him back to his bed before he awake. Then we have to vary the sleeping pills so they don't get addictive."

"Consent."

"You ask him. I'll have to talk to Miss Parker. Now we were planning to christen the babies this weekend."

"Well considering Zoe is quite ill; the weekend might be too late unless the Father at the _Saint Mary The Blessed Church _can do it."

"But wouldn't a University hospital be better?" asked Jarod, remembering the Universities in which he pretended to be a professor. They had the finest medical care, but a small hospital associated with a parish, no way.

Major Charles told him otherwise. Several organizations had donated funds so that _Saint Mary's_ now had a neo natal unit to rival that of the finest University hospital. Their heart research and cancer research division was excellent. On top of that, those who went there were certain that their relatives would not request the doctor pull the plug and those who had critically ill infants knew that no nurse would let their babies die of starvation on the pretext of mercy killing. "Zoe's getting the best personalized care she can. Her room's almost like a bed room, soft lights, and all that feminine stuff."

He waited while Jarod went over to Miss Parker and explained the situation. He couldn't hear what they were saying, but the way Miss Parker looked, she was about to explode. Major Charles knew what she was going through, The Centre changing, and now suddenly several children thrust upon her. Jarod had written to him, telling him of the problems they were having with Jeremiah.

Now no longer constrained by The Centre, the child was going wild, and acting up. Jarod was able to handle him, but Miss Parker needed help. She was not a Homo Dominant and did not have the Pretender gene. It was lie perpetuated by Raines and Mr. Parker, to make her believe she was a prisoner as well and for years it had worked. Now if Zoe asked Jarod and Miss Parker to take her children after her death, Miss Parker's limited motherhood skills would be at the breaking point.

Miss Parker was now on her cell phone, while Jarod packed the bags. They would be on their way once he finished his appointment.


	18. Beginning of a Long Journey

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

Jarod had pretended to be a psychiatrist, but never, unless one counted Sydney and that time he helped that woman gain custody of her son, been under the scrutiny of Dr. Colby.

And Dr. Colby was not like Sydney. There was a photograph of Dr. Colby and his wife also a psychiatrist plus another of him in his mother's arms as an infant with several other people. Jarod examined it more closely.

Yes, this all made sense, the setting, and the small gravestone. He carefully took the photograph from the frame and examined the writing referring to a previous child, also a boy, who died before he was six months of age.

The Marshall's Office used the dead child's name for Dr. Cox, and perhaps this was a coincidence, but nothing to do with The Centre was coincidence. The Centre, that is, the old Centre, had access to information. They would have known about Dr. Colby's dead brother and had it not been that the Old Centre was no more; Dr. Cox would never have got away.

Now Cox was back and the CIA, MI-5, Interpol, and whatever, would be tracking down the strong men, dictators, tyrants, and immoral people to whom the Centre shipped the results of Jarod's sims.

"Please take a seat." Dr. Colby motioned to Jarod. "I know all about your life here in the Centre."

"So why am I here?" Jarod was fidgeting.

"Perhaps to discuss your experiences when outside, your reaction to certain things like, for instance, when you first eat ice cream, or when you first had a Twinkie."

"I cannot see the purpose, but actually I expressed in the latter, that it was amazing how they got the filling inside. It was an amazing process."

"I see and when ever you saw something, a toy, how to eat Oreo cookies, you expressed that same type of wonder as if you were a child."

"You can say that since I never experienced these as a child."

"Do you still do that?"

"Not as often. I get the, 'This was named after some man and why they named it after him, I have no idea,' or 'they had to call it something. Shows a lack of imagination.'"

"Ah the resentful type." Colby smiled.

"I presume so."

"And if Miss Parker or whoever it was is not around, for instance if you are going after a bail jumper, and you run across a child holding a popsicle, it would be dangerous for you to approach her and ask what that is?" He opened his notebook and taking out a pen, started writing. "Considering that child molesters masquerade as decent people and being around or wanting to be around children is one ways they snare their victims, another approach would be in order."

Jarod never thought about that before. Children had always trusted him and he never would have harmed them, but pedophiles approached children in the same manner as he did. Not only that sociopaths and psychopaths were able to lure them away using the same methods he did.

And there were other signs, the way he could just talk to people and get them to trust him. He always said his first name, but was that proper? Perhaps if he said, Agent Wilkes, and Jarod Wilkes afterwards, it would be better. "I didn't realize that my approach was incorrect. I felt that the child needed assurance and Sydney never taught me how to speak to younger ones."

Colby nodded. "But in life there are certain unspoken rules to follow and you have to remember that even though you would never harm a child, that child might be lured by someone who would use the same familiarity."

"I agree with you. However if the child is in danger or his family's in peril, how can one make the correct move to assist them? Sydney would ask how would I approach him?"

"That isn't right. You'll never change for all it does is reinforce your past experiences. However, I follow the Adler school, which entirely different from the Freudian method. So what's I'm going to do is to show a DVD of inoffensive ways to talk to youngsters that is put out by the police department as well as those that pedophiles and criminals use."

He put the DVD in the machine and they watched for fifteen minutes. "Now do you get the idea?"

Jarod nodded. "Yes, I do."

Colby took out the DVD and turned off the machine.

"We all know that we have demons in our past. The trick is surviving in spite of them. Now your past behavior shows that your reaction happened because of something in your previous life. For instance, because The Centre took you from your family, you go after those who harm children. Now I want to know about your goals."

"If it were years ago, I would say to find my family and bring down The Centre. I felt then that I could not have a family of mine own unless this was accomplished."

"I have a sister who married after trying to become the best business manager in the field. She was thirty at the time, in good health, and she felt that she and her husband were ready for that baby. Didn't happen. Why?"

"The Centre would go after my children."

"So you agree to sacrifice your life and your future to The Centre. You believe that people who never finished high school, who are basically ignorant and stupid, who have an IQ under 100 should have children, but not you." Colby leaned forward.

"I didn't say that and I have children"

"But The Centre created them without your consent and knowledge, Jarod and you believed, from what Miss Parker told me, that they took a scraping of one of your skin cells and combined that with another instead of putting the sperm and egg together. Now do you believe that not knowingly begetting children then made you happier?"

"I told you, the Centre would have gone after them."

"And yet you could have asked for help. For instance, Samantha and Rachel of the FBI would have known someone who'd take care of them and arrange for a safe place so you could visit them. People often discourage geniuses from starting families by saying that 'you might have a child who is mentally challenged.' The reason they say that is because they are afraid, yes afraid that any children you have might be smarter then them. Highly intelligent people have highly intelligent children, unless one marries someone who is not smart and even then growing up in a house with a lot of stimulation will help." He paused for a moment. "And yet you had sex with a woman from Argentina, Rachel Burke, and Zoe You also inferred being with this woman who was in charge of stunts and who's now in the Women's Security Prison back in —"

"That is entirely private and besides, I had no idea how it functioned."

"But even though you had no idea that your penis entering the vagina would create children, in two chances, you actually did. It's known as the instinct to procreate That's the reason some men have children by as many as twenty different mothers and why girls of twelve and under have kids by boys not that much older because that instinct is so natural. You don't need a book or a high IQ to learn how. It's natural."

To compare him to someone who wanted trophies was beyond him. He just wanted to be close to someone, to hold her in his arms and because of that, there were six children in the world, their mothers took care of them and now one of the mothers was dying. He decided to get the doctor off track. "What about Miss Parker."

"Do you believe that Miss Parker then would have harmed any of your children if she were the mother? But would Miss Parker then have said to them, 'these are mine and Jarod's children,' and believe that you being the father would be the reason to override her desire to protect them?"

"They would be able to persuade her. That's why."

"And yet in the case of Frederick and Margaret, she made them promise not to put them down below, so even with Raines's genes in her, Miss Parker would never let any of your children come to harm. Now I want to hear a condensed version of more of your life in the Centre. Let's say sims."

"All the time I did the sims, Sydney never mentioned money. I had nothing, except for that bank account, but it wasn't even mine. It was just so they could purchase stuff for my sims under my assumed name so that if something went wrong, I'd be blamed."

"But you stole. The old adage, 'two wrongs do not make a right' Jarod?"

"Then I would have been unable to help people."

"The Centre should have told you that you were in bondage, their property from the beginning. Actually you could have taken the stuff, and act as their agent. That was one of the prerogatives of high-class slaves. Their masters made them their business managers, their stewards, but The Centre didn't allow you to do that. I want your reaction to that."

Jarod let him have it, telling how he had to work at sims from morning until night, the danger he felt, how he became exhausted and later to escape, to then sneak back, find the DSAs, and the codes to the Centre finances, take what he considered they owed him so he could right the wrongs.

He had to buy the equipment necessary and he could not use a credit card. He knew Miss Parker's phone card so he used that for a time, but then he bought a cell phone — they were not like the ones now — rather than rent one. He had to pay for so much online time in advance. Yes, by denying him his name, it cost him more than normal. It was a good thing that he bought that large bag and those clothes at Goodwill. He could not afford them otherwise and not have enough to help those families.

_And that darned psychiatrist accuses me of stealing, well I never could acquire them by working. The Centre would have found me sooner._

Jarod finally got the whole direction of Colby's talk. The Centre knew what it was doing, Mr. Parker, the Triumvirate when they kept him from experiencing a childhood, a normal life, when he had to wear that Centre uniform. They had done this purposely. If he hadn't that extreme physical as well as mental prowess, they would have caught him years ago.

"And perhaps taking something, a bargaining chip, was so that you could get information."

"I asked first, in fact several times."

"Correct." Colby took out his pen and wrote. "So you were not to blame for the results of the sims or perhaps I should do what our now resident Presbyterian does and say that you are responsible for your own sins, and actions, not those of others."

"Then I am responsible for the results of the sims."

"I did not say that. You are not responsible for the results. You are intelligence, perhaps you can find out."

"Then I was only responsible for the sim, if I saw that they would lead to danger, I had to warn them what it could be used for. I never expected they would use it in that way."

"Go on?"

"But then there are people who flirt with danger, like that Eve taking that fruit when she was told not to. Catechism. I guess I'm Catholic, my mom and dad were.

"I'm Methodist myself, but you get the idea." He got up. "So since you are still a slave, not to a habit, but one in person, how is that going to stop you from stealing? Miss Parker will never give you a wage, as for gifts, not enough."

"Do you realize that I am doing all the problem solution and you are just a sounding board? I think your diploma was a waste of time."

"Actually I worked long and hard for that diploma, but you are not the usual client. You have not held a regular job; you do not have a degree yet. You are taking your professional investigator's license, paid for by Miss Parker, and I would suggest that you concentrate on that field. You would be at an advantage others do not have. I see you were a conductor. Then you'd know where the violinists sit and if one of them brings out a viola, that something is wrong."

Jarod smiled. "That would never happen and I suppose the viola is a weapon in disguise."

Colby then went to get a box and handed it to Jarod. "This contains several DVDs and a headphone, the latest in technology. It gives many experiences that you probably never witnessed, fads that were common during your years at the Centre, plus popular music. I have tried to keep it to what the normal family does, what your father and mother, although I never met them, would have done."

"Thank you. Oh one more thing. My son, Jeremiah's getting rather out of hand."

"Be firm, set limits. Get close to him. The child's been through a lot, the same thing that you went through at first." He handed Jarod a book. "This is a good book on child- rearing, it does not believe that spanking is wrong, but that it should be a last resort."

"Yes, I investigated it on one of my pretends."

He wrote something on his pad. "It's a gift. Since I hear you are going to Europe soon with your family, here's a list of child psychiatrists that can specialize in highly intelligent children. They do understand English."

"Well I speak Swedish, Italian, French, and Spanish. Thank you. I'll tell Miss Parker. She's been with the children most of the time."

"Good and if you have any other questions or need any other solutions, that's my web site and my cell phone number."

Jarod went out the door and into the Centre elevator, and pressed the button for the Tower, thinking of all the other employees and possessions of the Centre and Doctor Colby raking in the dough. If it had been the Old Centre, he would not have minded, but this was a new and better one. He entered the elevator, and was just about the close the door when Sydney entered.

"Hello Jarod."

"Hello Sydney, or should I say, Doctor Green."

"Just Sydney, you know we're friends."

"You weren't really. What floor?"

"The same as yours, I have to see Miss Parker."

The trip up was in uncomfortable silence. It was as if they were strangers, the bond that had held them together was now broken. Both men realized now what went wrong, Sydney's fear of the Centre, and Jarod's being treated as an experiment rather than a human being. They had called it The Pretender Project and his notebooks, The Red File. It made had made it easier for The Centre to eliminate or to use drugs on their Pretenders. It was as if they were not even persons.

I recently learned Raines had many of the male Pretenders killed at birth," said Sydney," and that is part of the reason they wanted you back. Mr. Parker realized there were not enough male Pretenders to do the most dangerous sims."

"So why wasn't I allowed out."

"I think that I or another mentor was to use what we learned by watching you to instruct the other Pretenders."

"I saw no other instructor."

"No, but they were there, watching through the video cameras, possibly taking notes."

"They took my sperm, my DNA as if I were an animal I was their prime stock and they decided what of my children were disposable." This was a fact rather than a question.

Sydney nodded. "Actually, some were saved and shipped out in spite of Raines's desire to eliminate those with the X chromosome. The Triumvirate and the other Centre satellites wanted Pretenders with your genetics, preferably males, but because of what Raines did, they didn't have enough. The order went to get you back alive. That's why Mr. Parker sent Miss Parker out with us. Usually if a Pretender escapes, they'd just send out her or another hunter with the Sweepers."

"But I know that's what they did."

"I didn't realize it."

"But you should've Sydney, if I was considered your lab rat; wouldn't that be one of the natural outcomes?"

By now, they were at The Tower. Miss Parker had finished getting the babies in the pouch over her sweater and motioned for the two girls who had arrived to get the other children.

"Sam's got the car gassed up and we should arrive at the hospital by seven tonight."

"Right, and what about my father and Gem?" Jarod was still worried about Colby's talk. If Miss Parker had known that Giuseppe was his son, would she have put him into the sublevels? And would she have done the same to Frederick and Margaret? He didn't want to have these doubts.

"Your father and Gem are in Lambourni's van. He told me about the boy's problem and I had one of the cryogenic units put back into circulation. They're setting it up in the van right now. Gem'll be in it for most of the trip. They've given him sleeping pills and he should sleep for the whole day."

"What?"

"Yes Jarod. He'll stay a teenager a little longer. Oh don't worry, The Medicals put him on a schedule, so he can get out and have fun and we have this." She showed him a pair of head-phones, and dark glasses. "I see you have some as well."

"And DVDS from Colby. Who else is going?"

"Antonio, he's going to be the baby's godfather, Margaret's being brought in by the Medicals, and then there's Broots. Debbie's with Antonio. Sydney's coming as well. You don't seem too pleased, Jarod."

"Well I was thinking that you all had such nice happy families."

"You wanted just us and the children?"

"Why yes. I'd be driving, and then we'd stop at McDonalds, something I was denied to do."

"Oh you want to be a real father."

"I am a real father."

Her expression dropped as if she finally realized something. Even in California, he was busy looking for Dead Beat, and the other times before, he was helping with the Column or going through the Merging. He never actually took his children to Chuckey Cheese or to the Fair, not even to a video arcade. Other fathers did it, but not a possession of the Centre, no they weren't allowed to.

"Okay." She got on her cell phone. "Sam, you get in the other car and follow us. Jarod's driving."


	19. The Convoy

Since the actress who played Zoe was Italian American, I decided to make her family Italian Americans. That will make a good excuse for Jarod, Miss Parker, and company to go to Italy later on in the story..

CHAPTER NINETEEN

Jarod spent most of the time descending to the parking section, talking on the cell phone, the conversation being mostly about the examination he had to go through to get his Investigative License which was harder than most not only did he have to pass the Delaware license but of the other States in the United States of America. Luckily, there were fax machines and American embassies and consulates in the places they would have to visit. It also seemed that the money to support Rachel's children was calculated from Miss Parker's expense account, not the pay Jarod got to investigate various bails bonder jumpers, and small-time crooks, and after taking that out, Jarod got nothing other than just enough.

As soon as he got off, he spotted the Medicals putting the sleeping Gem into the cryogenic unit in Lambourni's van with one of the Packrats helping. Margaret was in the passenger seat while Debbie sat in the back with Constance, her husband, and four of their kids..It would not look right for Antonio to take all his family. That would arouse suspicion. They did look like a small army. They would meet them at the hospital. One of his sons stayed at home, and another was staying at the house in New Jersey. No Dominants or Pretenders traveled in packs.

Nicholas, who had a sabbatical, went in Sam's car along with Sydney and Broots. He had hurriedly put together a bag, but that would not be enough. Most if not all of them would have to purchase more clothes and provisions when they got off at Heathrow Airport.

Jarod drove by Miss Parker's house that certainly was going through an extensive renovation and by accounts of the construction crew, would never get finished. They were all leaning against various trees, the rockery, the stone steps either having coffee, breakfast, lunch, or dinner, depending on what shifts they were taking. All of them had been 'employed' by The Centre and Jarod was thinking that perhaps back in the Roman Empire, the slaves probably had a union and lolled around drinking sour wine and mush.

Antonio steered his van towards the meeting hall where his church met every Sunday. He stopped there and got out to talk to one of the men pruning a tree.

"So that's where you go," said Miss Parker, rolling down her window, noticing the sign on the lawn that the Blue Cove Orthodox Presbyterian Church held services every Sunday.

"Right," said Antonio returning to his van. "There's not that many of us, but I'm optimistic."

"But what about the other one?"

"Oh the Dutch Reformed Church took that one over. We already had a disagreement with it and besides I don't think I've that much Dutch in me," Antonio said with a smile.

"Oh please! You're as tight with your money as they are!" Miss Parker rolled up her window and they started to the commercial section.

Jarod smiled and looked at the clock on the dashboard. The brief spat he and Miss Parker had previously was largely forgotten. Besides, he was getting hungry. "MacDonalds?"

"I don't think the one here's open, yet," said Miss Parker as she slipped some money into his wallet while he wasn't looking.

"We could always try. Besides, I can't talk on the cell while driving."

She cursed about stupid cell phone rules and asked, "Who were you trying to reach?"

"Frederick, so he'll meet us at the hospital instead. By the way, some movie studio writer's been snooping around and bugging Fred, about using him as a model for making a movie about a teenage CIA agent. Do you believe such crap?"

"Really Jarod. I thought you were better than that?" She hid her laughter in the handkerchief she took out of her purse. "So who else's going to be there? I gather Rachel and the kids."

"Yes. When I told them of going to Europe, she made sure to get passports and visas in their name. And there's a case she's working on, something about a serial killer who probably doubles as a pilot. By the way, I already contacted little Margaret. The Opera Company she's in is having a hiatus in London and she'll meet us there after —" He didn't want to say anything more.

It had been hectic, planning the trip to Europe, which would happen after seeing Zoe at the hospital and probably arguing with her parents about custody of the kids.

Jarod hoped that Zoe's parents would relent. After all, he missed seeing Rachel's three on a regular basis and since neither he nor Rachel wanted to go to court — it being difficult for someone who officially didn't exist — it was mainly an understanding, he'd take them for summer, and she'd during the school term. Unfortunately, it didn't work that way. She'd drop the kids off unexpectedly or he'd not see them for months.

As for Zoe, they had no idea whether the doctors were being pessimistic or whether the orderlies would be pulling the sheets over her body. If that were the case, they only had enough time for a burger and fries and probably would have to eat in the car.

Miss Parker notified Sam of their decision and so both cars started towards the main highway. The new MacDonald's was supposed to be already open and as she suspected, it still was not. A mob of well manicured, blue haired, blonde coifed, overly busted, sauna and trainer slimmed women stood blocking the way of the delivery trucks and some had signs saying, "No hamburgers, and fries at Blue Cove!"

"It's been that for weeks," said one of the truck drivers to Jarod.

"So I guess eating here is out."

"Yeah, you'll have to try farther down. These women are nuts!"

And so they did.

By the time, they reached the open MacDonalds outside of Blue Cove, everyone, that is, of Pretender gene or to be technically correct, Homo Dominant variety were looking rather hungrily at the Sapiens. The kids were crying, Lambourni's voice, they could hear asking, "When are we going to stop?" and Jarod imagined that a hungry bear was in his stomach trying to escape. For some small moment, he wished they had saved more of that Nutritional Supplement instead of throwing it away.

As it was, Jarod sped the car into the nearest parking lot, not wanting to wait at the pick up window, and went into the restaurant, and ordered "Ten Big Mac Combos with fries, and extra onion rings," and revised the order to include five Chicken salads to accommodate Miss Parker who strode in at that moment. For the sake of the children and himself, he ordered several apple pies, chocolate chip cookies, Sprite, and Coke. The adults drank coffee, and tea of both the regular and herbal varieties.

They could not stay at the restaurant, besides most of the tables were filled — obviously by others from Blue Cove who could not eat at its picketed MacDonald — so they drove off towards the hospital. However for some reason, Jarod could not eat. Remembrances of the weight he gained before being on the Island and the thought of Zoe wasting away from the cancer had killed his appetite.

An hour or so later, they reached the hospital and parked near the entrance. After giving his children

"I'll find out if she's got any worse," said Jarod, going over to Zoe's grandmother and noticing someone there.

"My son and his wife," said the grandmother.

Jarod never knew that Zoe's parents were alive.

They looked like hard working people. Zoe's father had wavy brown hair and brown eyes. His wife's eyes were blue and Zoe got her looks from her. They were looking after Zoe's three and Mrs. Fabrizio held the children protectively as she glared at their father.

"You got to excuse Viola," said Grandmother Fabrizio, "she's hurt. You see Zoe never told her nor about the children."

"Why?" asked Jarod.

"Zoe had a falling out. The court gave me guardianship. This was the first time they had gotten together."

"But families."

"Yes,"said Mr. Fabrizio, "families should be together."

_So this is why I never saw the kids often_, thought Jarod. He wanted to apologize but he he knew that wouldn't work.

"They say she's got an hour or less," said Grandmother Fabrizio, "If you want to see her —"

"Look mama," said Mr. Fabrizio, "I doubt it's wise."

"I think it is." The old lady was insistent.

"Mama, you know how you had to struggle after Papa passed. Zoe's got nothing to say to him and besides her children can stay with us."

"They're names are Francesco, Gabriella, and Luigi," said the grandmother and turned to Jarod. "She's in Room 214."

"Thank you," said Jarod who motioned to Miss Parker who was coming in the waiting room, "I think I'll want to see her alone."

"I'll wait down here." She shifted her pouch, and picked up a magazine. Johann was squealing, Lisa had just let out a large burp, Colin was kicking off his sheets, and Catherina — well she was sleeping.

"I'll take them for you," said Debbie who was smart enough to carry in a large car seat that her husband had improvised to fit her four.

Lambourni followed, went over to the administration desk, and whispered, in lawyer fashion, to the receptionist.

"Thank you," said Miss Parker to Debbie as she watched Jarod walk away.

Jarod stepped into the elevator, his heart heavy. He had been in love with Zoe, but it was not what he felt for Miss Parker, that feeling of affection. He pressed the button for the second floor and thought of how he could gain custody of his children..

_. For anyone's information, there are several Orthodox Presbyterian Churches in Delaware and I figured that there had to be one in the fictitious (or not) town of Blue Cove. As for MacDonald's and other places like Burger King, etc. they'd have a hard being established, since Blue Cove is an exclusive, and ritzy community, and occupied mostly by Centre employees, most of whom would be snobs.. _


	20. Farewell and a Promise to Keep

CHAPTER TWENTY

Jarod did not recognized Zoe at first, all those tubes going into her arm, the machines, the inhalator, and the constant drip from the intravenous going into her arm.

"Zoe?"

Weakly she raised her head. "Jarod? You've come." And then she fell back.

"Take it easy." He came closer and held her arm.

"I can't. I have so much to do. The children. I want you to take them."

"But your parents."

"You're the father. And Miss Parker'll be a good stepmother for them."

"But what about your parents? Your grandparents? My father?"

She coughed and raised her hand. It was so limp, almost like a feather. She still had her beautiful red hair, but the illness had faded it and her skin was so fragile, it would have broken in Jarod's strong hands. And all around were the futile effects of the machines trying to keep her alive for just one moment. The feeding tube and the intravenous were the only things keeping her strong.

The nurse, who was in the room, came over and touched Jarod's shoulders. He left Zoe and spoke to her.

"Are you doing everything?"

"She doesn't want heroic measures. We're increasing the morphine. It'll shorten her life, but at least the pain has subsided. But the alternative is so much worse." She fingered the large crucifix she wore around her neck.

Jarod knew the alternative. He had read the paper, that woman in Florida.

The nun left, leaving Jarod, alone with his former love whose head moved towards the bed stand and the metal drawer. In it was an eight by ten brown envelope.

He opened it, and read the contents.

"I made it out when my cancer started returning, before I started to have second thoughts, before I started going crazy." Suddenly she frayed her arms, disturbing the intravenous. "Jarod? Are you there?"

"Yes I am."

She startled. "Who are you? Where am I?"

He had read about this type of cancer, that just before one died, one lost their sight, and finally their recognition of people and events. Before that, the patient had brief periods of lucidity, like Zoe had a few minutes ago.

The lawyer had made things clear. Custody of the children, namely Francesco Alberto, Gabriella Maria, and Luigi Piero was to go to Jarod, the man in the photograph, no one knowing his last name at the time. She had dated the will shortly after their birth when she once again had to take the treatment. There was the name of a trust company and a stipulation that the children were to receive the balance of their accounts when they reached the age of sixteen rather than the normal twenty-one or twenty-five years. This the lawyer on Zoe's insistent had changed it few months ago, when Major Charles found that he, his wife, and his two remaining children, plus his grandchildren were Homo Dominants.

The children would be comfortable but no wealthy. Zoe had seen to it.

Jarod turned to the bed, hearing the death rattle. In a last moment of lucidity, Zoe whispered. "Good-bye Jarod." And then her head dropped back on the pillow, her hand stiffened, the attendants brought in the cart, made an attempt to bring her back to life with the paddles, but it was all for naught.

She was gone.

Jarod watched them pull the sheet over her head and call in the rest of the family for the last good-byes. There was a lot of recriminations as to why he, a stranger to all except the sister and the grandmother, was allowed to see Zoe on her death bed, but Zoe had insisted. She had stayed alive particularly for this.

The family would arrange for the funeral, but Jarod's job was clear. His children, those and Zoe's could go to Italy, see that village where the great grandparents had left from. He could when Rachel and her kids arrive, perhaps go to Israel, or to that country in Europe where her great great-great grandparents had left, before the Holcaust. They could even go to Scotland and then to Normandy where the Parker's had come from and point out the actual district and the small town where Miss Parker's grandmother, Margo's father had his shop.. They might wind up in Dublin, Ireland, where Catherine Parker's parents had left, or to the village in Norway where a young Jamieson had left to go to Dublin and marry a young Irish girl, and eventually immigrate to America. But. as for him, Jarod did not know where he came from. Not even his father and mother knew, only that they were probably part Dutch and German and who knows whether they were really that or emigrants from some other country, for his grandparents had been murdered when they were young.

Why even adopted children knew non-identifying parts of their history, but he, a Homo Dominant, a Pretender, knew nothing except the small bits of information he had gleamed over the years of pursuit.

It was as if he never existed.


	21. A Grandmother's Decision

,CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

Rachel and the children had arrived. They came ahead of Frederick and his family and soon the others came. The waiting room was getting very noisy and full.

Antonio was talking to the Fabrizio lawyer, mostly shoptalk about the amount of time they had before getting their own practice, the school they went, their specialty, until getting to the point.

"Schools," he said, not finances, but schools. Jarod might not know it, and Miss Parker would refuse to know it, but Dominants often got their wealth from their victims in the past. His father and mother probably thought they got it by the methods used since 1998, co-operation, and treaties. It was said, "The graves of the Sapiens fill the coffers of the Dominants and the children of the Dominants reap the benefits." .

Schools for Dominant children were an issue and hard to get into to, the Sapien schools, that is. There was a waiting list for the best schools.

But that was not important now. If needs be, they could send the children to The Dominant School in Connecticut although neither Jarod nor Miss Parker wanted to be separated from their children.

Miss Parker was talking to a priest phone when Jarod came out of the elevator, and she knew right away. "She's dead, isn't she?"

"Yes." He stepped aside to let Zoe's family through, but a nun stopped them.

"We"ll get the body ready for viewing room," she said. "I don't think the children will want to see their mother as she is."

"We'll join you later," said Miss Parker. "This is Father Ambrose. He'll be performing the baptism."

"Don't worry," said the Father, "this happens all the time."

"Thank you," said Jarod imagining a ceremony much like the wedding chapels in Las Vegas where tons of parents waited in line for the priest to speed through the ceremony with, "I baptize you in the name of the Father, Son, and Holy Ghost. Next?"

However, it was not like that. The baptism took an hour that coincided probably with the preparation of Zoe's body and was a necessity since often parents brought their infants up to say good-bye to the deceased, forgetting that this was a hospital with germs.

Jarod had watched _The Godfather One_ and _Two_, in fact, he watched them several times when he was on the run, and half expected, that as the Priest said, "In the name of the Father, Son, and Holy Ghost' several men with Tommy guns would climb up the steps of everyone of the Centre Satellites, and blast away.

However Broots did not rush through the door and screaming, "Miss Parker, Miss Parker, did you hear the news? They're killing everybody."

Well Broots was here and besides even if such a thing happened, no one would know until they were at that location and saw half the police of that particular country milling around. It was a nice thought, but one that needed perusal another time. Right now, the baptismal ceremony was almost over.

"I baptize you Johann Matthew, Lisa Margaret, Colin Ethan, and Catherina Violetta Angela in the name of the Father, Son, and Holy Ghost." The priest sprinkled the infants and finished in Latin, making the sign of the cross, and assuring the parents, by his confidence, that if their children suddenly died, they would immediately be in Heaven.

Antonio Waldo Lambourni Angela stood by as their godfather and Debbie as their godmother.

After the service, one of the members of the Woman's Auxiliary informed them of the catering service and special events such as baptism of multiple births were no cost. She also pointed out the location. "Just give us a holla and we'll be ready," she said with a smile.

"Holla?" whispered Miss Parker.

"An attempt to put us at ease," said Jarod. He stood in front of a line of people all saying congratulations, and ahs to the babies. It wasn't like this at Blue Cove, but then these children had no threat of being put down in the sublevels nor of Raines or Lyle suddenly snuffing out their lives during the middle of the night.

The older children did like getting picked up, and people telling that they were so cute.

However, things had to end and once again, they walked over to the hospital and on learning Zoe's body was almost ready went into the waiting room, that had a picture of Jesus and Mary both radiating down on a woman dressed in black who cried with painted tears as well as numerous booklets on death, dying, and surviving. There was a small restroom, as well as four jugs of water, the Vulgate, plus for the Protestants, a King James Bible. And since this was a Roman Catholic Hospital, several pamphlets on converting to that belief.

The couches were utilitarian beige with pastel flowers entwined in moss green leaves and the chairs padded with the same material. There was also a crib for the children and one of the nuns brought in another one so there would not be a scrabble.

"Do they have a radio?" asked Jeremiah, looking around for possible weapons to use in his mischief and all the adults followed him either by looks or by moving their seats to his location.

The orderlies brought in Zoe's body, and everyone said their farewells, along with the usual crying and sobbing or looking appropriately sad.

She looked as if she were sleeping.

The Fabrizios kept a close watch on Francesco, Gabriella, and Luigi.

"They're not going to let you get close to them, Jarod," whispered Miss Parker.

"Zoe promised us custody." He left the group, going over to the parents who tried to block his way. They were getting prepared for a scene or rather wishing to start one.

"With my daughter dead, now you want to take my grandchildren away?" asked Mrs. Fabriozio.

"Zoe wanted them to see the village in Italy where your grandparents came from."

"But they're too little and we never got to see them." .

"Never?"

Jarod turned to see the older Mrs. Fabriozio approaching, her face red with anger.

"Never?" she repeated, "I wrote you numerous times, made phone calls, but you never showed up. You didn't care about your own daughters, just figured that getting Don Carproza's approval was more important than getting a decent job."

"But the State had no right to take them away from us," said Mr. Fabriozio.

"The State had every right. Inviting that creep to your apartment, knowing that he was a child molester, why I doubt even the Don would've approved. Now you listen to me. The Angelas are going to take the children to Italy. They can take them to Australia if they wanted, just so you cannot corrupt them as you tried to do to Zoe."


	22. Flight into Mystery

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

The first thing one has to do is to decide where to go first and then whether to use the Centre helicopter or the Centre jet. Passports were no problem, the Centre being an international organization and all they had to do was to get everyone's photographs.

The Centre photographs showed the front, and both sides of the subject. It was much better than usual passport photos as the Centre liked to keep track of its staff, their families, as well as their property — that is the Pretenders.

Jarod, Miss Parker, and Lambourni decided to keep the Centre equipment and not go with the going to the Passport office. Besides, Miss Parker got a Passport photo once. She felt she was better looking when she was in the hospital after her ulcer attack..

"The Centre helicopter," said Miss Parker.

"The Jet," said Antonio.

"I'm for the Jet," echoed Jarod.

She looked around. Even the kids were nodding and shouting, "Jet!" making sure that Sydney and Broots, who wanted the helicopter, couldn't get a word in edgewise.

"You just want the Jet because you're a Top Gun, Antonio, and you want to do some of your fancy flying," she said, "but if one of the kids get sick, we're going to go by liner and we'll spent months at sea, watching old men and women play croquet."

Nevertheless, none of her threats bothered them and on consideration, even she agreed the Centre Jet was better. The work crew had made major renovations and although the cargo had held not only goods, but also captives, the time for transporting Pretenders had ended..

This time, everyone was going to be in the main quarters, including The Pretender.

"We should go to London first," said Jarod, bringing them back to the original subject, after they were in the plane..

"No," said Miss Parker, "Ireland."

"Ireland?"

"My maternal grandfather came from there."

"Oh, did your grandparents have the inner sense?" asked Jarod.

She glared at him. "I have no idea."

"Well perhaps we should find out."

"Okay. Broots, check out Dublin, look for a family called Jamieson and another called MacEarran." She gave the name of the street and mentioned that a Jamieson worked as an Importer Exporter where he met a Colleen MacEarran, and married her. "They came to America soon after their honeymoon, but as he was still working for the Export company, he had to return to Dublin. They died when mother was young. My great aunt took care of her, until she decided to be a nun, but that didn't work out.".

"I thought the name was Banerran," said Broots.

"They were traditionalists, stuck to the old customs, but were pressured to change."

"All right, MacEarran. I hope you have fire wire here."

"Fire wire?"

"Wireless connection"

"Oh." She waited until the plane took off. Lambourni was in the pilot seat with Jarod as co-pilot.

Rachel was telling the children them about her adventures in the FBI, that is, a watered down version so not to terrify them. Speaking softly, Major Charles tried to assure Margaret that the effects of changing from homo sapien to homo dominant would not be dramatic. Sydney wrote notes on a pad while looking at the cylinder in which Gemini lay in suspended animation.

"How long is he going to stay there?" he asked.

The Medical, who had accompanied them to look after Margaret, looked at his watch. "Do you want him to die sooner?" he asked.

"No."

"Then leave this to those with more experience and intelligence," was the snap reply. "We will revive him for a few seconds, enough to register a flight in his mental capacities and then put him under again."

"What does that do?"

The Medical smiled. "It will be as if he dreamt, but he will be half awake. In that stage, what you call Alpha, a minute seems like an hour, an hour like a few hours. He will believe he was as in a bed staring out of the window. You note the reason why I put it in the present location."

Sydney nodded. The cylinder was not in the cargo hold or at the back of the plane, but somehow fastened securely to across two seats so that the glass cover faced the window.

They were now flying over the Atlantic, and while the others stared down to see what was below — like ships at the bottom of the ocean or Atlantis rising from the deep – Broots still searched He tried every neighborhood in Dublin, but had no luck. He then tried the outskirts and finally the county.

"Nothing here, Miss Parker," he said.

"What?"

"I checked everywhere, but it appears that no MacEarran or Banneran married a Jamieson. The strange th-thing about it is that when I went to the location of the house where your maternal grandmother lived in, it was under another name and not the same place."

By this time, Jarod had left his seat. He went over to the lap top, pushed Broots aside, and typed in some names.

"What d-did you do?" asked Broots.

"I found the estimated location of the flat that Miss Banerran lived, as well as the estimated place where Mr. Jamieson, your mother's father, Miss Parker, worked."

"And what else?"

"It appears that someone else was also searching for information. The file has been accessed previously."

"Let me see," said Miss Parker, looking over Jarod's shoulder.

"Here." Jarod pointed to a number. Below it was a url.

"Oh that's just the number of times people came upon this page, probably."

"I'll just go to the advertiser." He typed the url and was not prepared for Miss Parker's reaction.

"I know that organization."

"What do you mean, Miss Parker?"

"It used to be a subsidiary of The Centre. They went out of business back in the middle 1950s."

"Wasn't that around the time your father married your mother?" asked Sydney who too took an interest in the search.

"Yes. Jarod, can you type in that url in Google and find out if it's been anywhere else?"

Jarod did so, and the results surprised him. The addresses were similar, starting with places where someone was a psychic. Mr. Parker was looking for a specific someone, for he crossed off names of families in which that ability just cropped up all of a sudden. Even going as far as Transylvania, the Centre searched for an inherited sense of the paranormal, without being specific for there were numerous links, most which led to information about the paranormal. Jarod was about to give up when he clicked on one that led to a page containing a zip file.

Not only was the file encrypted, for which Broots helped in opening it, but the document was also and in time, both men were able to read the message.

In it, Mr. Parker expressed his desire to keep the Centre in the Parker hands. He was disgusted at how things had gone. He feared that the Pretenders's ability to take over any role coupled with their intelligence would see the Centre go from the Parkers's hands to them. It was at this time that he was thinking of obtaining financial backing outside of America..

"He could have tried the Cayman Islands," said Jarod with a sneer.

There was talk about offering a part to a Zulu chieftain who found diamonds on his land and had acquired the majority of shares in the mining company. He was supposedly quite well educated (Mr. Parker not wanting to deal with a dummy) but also retained his native superstition. His family had all attended various universities and they were quite westernized. He had written back to Mr. Parker saying that since he had two friends who were also interested.

"The Triumvirate," said Miss Parker.

"Here's something you might find interesting, Miss Parker," said Jarod, "'Years ago, my father found certain individuals whom he thought were the right specimens, but they were failures. However, the Centre took certain of their children, and found they were of high intelligence, but because they had no outside influence, we could not use them. I have decided to keep them as unpaid staff to occupy themselves.' That could explain the reason for the Nutrional Supplement."

Miss Parker yawned. "This is all too common."

"But listen to this," said Jarod, "'For some reason they anticipate our moves. We need a balance, a counter edge. The Centre has sent our employees to look for a woman of intelligence, charm, and breeding. Her qualifications, as well as being of the Catholic faith, is that she must have the ability to emphasize with others, to know ahead of time when an event will occur, and to communicate even with those passed away and to sense the sex of our child without any medical assistance, before its birth. And that ability must be inherited. That way, I will be able to properly prepare the future of our child and the Centre, as well as prevent the Pretenders from taking over the Centre.'"

Miss Parker gasped. "So my father knew about my mother's inner sense. He didn't marry her because he loved her. He married her so that he would have a super Parker, one that would rule the Centre."

"Do you know anything about your grandparents?" asked Sydney.

"Mother said that when Grandmother left her at the convent, she said that Grandpa was in trouble. She promised to return, but if she didn't, that meant the boogey man had got Mother kept that part of her life secret from me. I tried to find more but couldn't."

Jarod had switched seats with Lambourni and told everyone to fasten their seatbelts. "We're going to Dublin and find out what REALLY happened to the Jamiesons," The Pretended said.

Miss Parker clutched her seat, dreading what she would find out once they landed in Ireland.


	23. Whatever happened to—?

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

When they landed at the Dublin airport, Jarod decided that he had to see if anyone new about the Jamiesons and MacEarrans, rather than listening to Miss Parker getting so emotional and saying things like, "How can I survive? My own assumed father married my mother for her inner sense, so he could create a super Pretender. He didn't love her," etc. etc. and so on and so on.

Actually, Jarod knew if he heard that from her, he would retort with well, "No one cared about me being taken from my family, forced to do sims that harmed people, with no reward for my efforts and how lonely I was, how they told me they were dead and tried to make me forget," etc, etc.

No, with the children around, it would do no good for them to see the parents arguing. He left a note, informing Miss Parker that he was going alone to find out what happened. He also explained that if there were some from the old Centre still alive, it would be best that they do the tourist thing. Besides, it would be an education for the kids. He wrote Miss Parker a note that he would meet them at the front square of Trinity College at eight in the evening.

If the Centre satellite, in Ireland, was still in operation and knew about him — Jarod required some makeup, a wig, and extra clothes. Since he was the Centre's chief Pretender and possession, every former Centre employee and business, who did not know about the changeover, would be after him. Luckily, he had enough cash on hand, Miss Parker knowing that people would question if she was always paying, and he was not. He spent an hour buying the means to apply his disguise from a rag shop, a theatrical supply house, and then slipped into a washroom to apply his disguise.

He picked up a lap top computer sized briefcase, which with his other clothes — in case the first disguise did not work — took almost all his ready cash.

Since Jarod was a Pretender, it was easy for him to get a ride to the neighborhood where Import Export shop Miss Parker's grandfather worked in, stood. Only it was not there. It its place, there was a modern apartment. He then took out his map, and walked down the cobblestone streets to find the flat where the MacEarrans lived, but in its place was a park. He checked the granite stone with the plaque at its entrance. It had been donated somewhere in the 1950s. He looked for a place to hide his briefcase

He closed his eyes to get into the Pretender mode, put on a dated tweed coat with a vest, a pair of spectacles, hid behind a tree and soon found a man in his eighties

"Excuse me, names's Professor Eric Vanderstrag," said Jarod in his best Dutch accent as he gave the impression he had just come from the park, "I was looking in the journal of my predecessor, Johann Emerstaul, who vas here during the fifties. He mentioned something about an apartment."

"There has always been a park here."

Jarod knew the man was lying. "No, der vas a family, the MacEarrans."

The old man started to shiver. "A family named MacEarran here, never."

"The daughter married a Jamieson."

"Leave me alone. I can't say anymore. Constable! Constable!"

Jarod wisely left before the police officer approached and ducked into the nearest lavatory, removed his spectacles, peeled off the artificial flesh, washed off the remaining sallow stage makeup, removed his wig, and the additional bulk from inside his jacket that made him look older. Waiting until the lavatory was empty, he neatly packed what he could into the briefcase he took out of his denim satchel, folded it, and inserted it into the briefcase after taking out a cap, slacks, shirt, and a vest. It took some time for him to get out the wrinkles, using the hand dryer. He quickly dressed and looked for the nearest pub.

There was one in the working class district, populated by the locals whom he hoped did not contain the old gentleman. Jarod entered, and sat down at one of the booths, ordering a lager, and listening to the ensuing conversation. When a police officer came in, and looked him over, he thought for a minutes his disguise had not worked, but the officer just walked on.

"Aye, and we had them all beat but the blikers came out and …"

"Sure and Fiona comes out dressed like a tart with that O'Donnell boy and him looking like Dracula."

"And her poor mother almost in the grave. Saints preserve us."

None of these looked the correct age. What he needed was the conversation of someone like that old man, but brave enough or drunk enough to not matter who he talked with — unless it was a son of that same individual..

The old man who Jarod had encountered appeared at the door, but did not recognize him.

"About sixty, spectacles, yellow white hair, bulky," he said to the constable, "a cad. Tried to make trouble."

"And in what way, MacDougal?"

"Asked about the MacEarrans, you know they donated the Park."

"Can't have that can we, MacDougal? I'll keep an eye out."

Jarod kept listening. The Centre had done its work well, probably forging the MacEarran name to a will donating their land as a park. However, the MacEarrans were not the only ones. There were at least six families in the flat at the time. He knew that those who were home at the time also perished, and those who were away later killed by the Centre goons. They would allow no witnesses or survivors, a cleanup.

Then there was Mr. Jameison who married the MacEarran daughter. The Centre could have offered him a job, get him to take along his wife and wait until Catherine was born, but they chose to kill them.

There had been no mention of a Jamieson in this area, a sure sign that the Centre had eradicated their existence.

Jarod turned his attention to a conversation in the booth across the room from his. They were talking about the uprising, and then switched to neighborhood gossip, about when they were boys and a strange incident that had occurred.

The first man was in his sixties, pink faced, white haired, and with a receding hairline and was talking belligerently to another man, this one a little darker, what one called Black Irish.

"Do I have to listen to your story about them?"

"I don't know why you're so afraid. It's been over fifty years. A boy I was when I saw the fire and heard the screams."

"It's your imagination Tory and listening to the Telly that causes your brain to shrink."

"Sure and if I had not hid, by the Saints, I would be in the fire as well. And poor Jamieson dying in hospital the next day. And they said he had a cold."

"You were mistaken. We saw Uncle Pieter get on the plane."

"And why was he limping on his right leg? And why did he not know me? Uncle Pieter always said 'Hello little Tory' because I was named after me father, Big Tory. Another drink I'll have," Tory said to the girl who came over to their table.

Jarod didn't want to alarm them. He waited until that Tory spoke loud enough for a normal person to hear him. He listened to the rest of the conversation, which consisted of Tory bemoaning that his favorite 'uncle' had died alone in a charity ward in hospital and how he sneaked in to see him.

"And all puffed up with those orange spots, he was and the nurses all in masks and they closed the ward because people kept dying. Typhoid they say it was. My own grandmother died of typhoid and I got the shots. Sure and it was a horrible disease, something the devil gave to them."

_Or the Centre_, thought Jarod.

"Oh be quiet about the fire, Tory," said his friend, who by now was shouting. "And the attention you are getting." He looked over at Jarod who was staring rather intensely.

"I hope it weren't the same ones who burned down several houses in the United States," he said coming over.

"Aye when was this?" asked Tory's friend, "Mike's my name."

Jarod pulled out a card from his jacket pocket. "Private investigator," he whispered, "we're looking into a case of suspicious fires and deaths. They started back in the 1950s,

"Sure and you've investigated many fires?" asked Mike with a wary look at Jarod.

"Yes. We're better equipped." He took out a notebook and made as if he was calculating some facts. "Nineteen fifty-xix, house burnt down, ruled accidental at the time – grill off the fireplace. Nighty-eight conclusive action found that one of the logs was soaked with natural gas which smell is undetectable. Nineteen sixty-three, apartment in New Hampshire, kitchen fire. Assumed kids played with matches. Father absent, mother and children supposedly died of smoke inhalation. Consequent investigation in ninety-nine found that mother had a bruise to her skull unconscious at the time. Thread in older child's throat, led to suffocation. Chemical analysis from matches found the murderer threw them on the scene. Fire started by lighter. Father arrested for contracting out the murders for insurance. Need I go on?"

"And you think that you can bring up the fairies and tell me that Tory's not addled brained?"

Ï'll be the judge of that. Let me see, the apartment or what do you call them, flat, burnt to ashes. There were victims. It was set on a weekday evening and looked accidental. Previous to that, someone went missing and often times, if one kept hidden, they saw a black car about a week or so bef …"

Tory's face grew pale. "Black Sedan?"

"Back in the States, they'd be called Town Cars."

"Aye that's them."

Jarod took out a snapshot of a man and a woman supposedly in their sixties. It hadn't taken him long to age one of his photographs, and alter the features so they would match his supposed parents. The woman was a computer-generated figure, brown and brown eyes. It was one time he felt lucky he didn't look like his brother, then he'd have to use his mother's photograph and he didn't know whether these Tory's and Mikes had seen her. Besides having a 'mother' who was a brunette was easier.

"Sure and you have his looks."

"Thank you. Why would they burn the MacEarran place?"

"Cause they're descended from the Druids and sure that Uncle Pieter, he had a bit of the magic in him."

"Magic, Tory?" asked Jarod, "What kind of magic?"

"Sure and I do not know, but you have to go to where he came from, a village near Oslo."

"I'll do that. Now what about the MacEarrans"

Tory began. "According to Legend, the Druids ruled Ireland and the Kings and married any with the gift of second sights and by the saints, the gifts they passed down from father to son, but t' was strongest from mother to daughter. Right even after Saint Patrick came and drove the snakes away and still to this day. There's an old woman in County Cork who can tell you when you're going to die and when you —"

Jarod listened intently. It did make sense, but he still wondered about the Jamiesons. Was there a Norwegian counterpoint to the Druids and did the Centre arrange Pieter's meeting with Miss Parker's grandmother. He thanked the two, had a pint of ale, and some Dublin Coddle, then took out his lap top, sent a message to Broots telling him his theory,.

A few minutes later, he got a reply.

Broots was searching the Centre records and they'd meet him in front of Trinity College.


	24. Seeing Angels Again

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

When the plane landed, Miss Parker expected to see Jarod still at the pilot's seat, not the envelope nor did she expect to see another in the sleeping quarters up the stairs — although knowing his former habits, a note under her pillow would be more his style. It was written in a cursive style, an attempt to get out the usual method Jarod used for communication, printing. So far, he had surpassed her expectations. His handwriting showed masculinity combined with a bold stroke, the i's were doted precisely, the letters were not joined as in the American style, but more like those of the Europeans. It was mainly straight with just a touch to the right, showing his personality.

When he was in the Centre, Miss Parker had regarded Jarod as not even an adult, just a grown up child who needed direction. The Centre had specifically ordered Sydney not to teach Jarod how to write, only to print and when he escaped, the only writing he did was to copy signatures. In a way, this along with keeping information on culture from him, strengthened his dependence, and made him easier to caught. How he escaped for so long was plain sheer luck.

She had felt amused at Jarod's innocence then, but as the years and the pursuit went on, it became frustrating. It was one thing for a child to ask "what's that for?" but an adult, and one born in America!

"I have gone searching for answers regarding your maternal grandparents, and having no desire to see you harmed, will bring the information to you this evening at the front of Trinity College. I suspect that if The Centre had anything to do with your mother placed in a convent at an early age, they might have taken steps to ensure that any witnesses to your grandparent's deaths, disappearances, or imprisonments would not be encouraged. If anything develops pertinent to that information, I will notify Broots via e-mail. Love, Jarod."

"Shall I go after him?" asked Sam, his hands on his gun that showed above the holster.

"No Sam. We'll do a little sight seeing and if you see Jarod or we see Jarod, we'll act as if we don't know him. Obviously this ploy is for our safety."

"I can take care of you, Miss Parker," said the sweeper, implying that with the children now born, they no longer needed Jarod.

"And Mr. Lambourni will take care of you," she snapped back. "Remember what I told you when we returned to Blue Cove? The same warning applies to women who have given birth recently. Post Partum depression. Sometimes it brings up a murderous feeling often directed against those who are supposedly their protectors."

"All right, Miss Parker."

"Oh Sam, Sydney must be up by now. I'd like to talk to him."

"What about the others?"

She looked over the cabin. "Antonio's taking good care of the kids and Gemini's taking a stretch. I got a call from little Margaret. They're at Heathrow Airport and wondering why we aren't there. I told them that we're looking for my ancestors."

"All right, Miss Parker." He left to go back to the cabin where Sydney, not wishing to bother her, had slept on two of the seats.

Sydney was not feeling too well. His face seemed a little too red.

"I think you should see a doctor, Sydney." She laid her hand consolingly on his right shoulder.

"I'll be all right. Where's Jarod?"

"He says he'll meet us at the Trinity College this evening. Meanwhile I'll see if there's a hospital near by."

"What about the others?"

Miss Parker looked over to where Antonio and Debbie were chatting with the youngsters. "Antonio, I've got to take Sydney to the doctor. Will you be all right?"

Of course, Lambourni did what she expected him to, went to the suitcases, and started throwing out clothes. "Just wait until I find something for the young ones to wear."

"Look Antonio, it'll be just an hour or two."

"You think? Unless you have money, you'll have to go to a waiting list and you'll be lucky to get in under eight hours. You just gave birth not that long ago. I think — these'll do. Jeremiah,here. And Patricia, you will be more appropriate in this." He continued to throw clothes to the children, except for the infants who were still sleeping peacefully.

"Rachel, do you want to go as well?" she asked.

"I've got to see the police about a case, Miss Parker. Charles, David, and Naomi, do you want to see the sights with Miss Parker or do you want to visit an Irish police station?" She scrunched up her face. "Now the police station isn't that nice. It's not like in Connecticut, it's dirty and they have very bad people in jails here. Nasty people. You wouldn't want to see them."

It was not what she expected. "Will they want our assistance in solving any cases?" asked Naomi and her face lit up as if her mother was offering her candy.

"Are there real killers in Dublin prisons or just those who have partaken of too much alcoholic beverage?" asked Charles.

"We want to see how they react to confinement, mother," added David.

"I think you should go with Miss Parker."

All three shook their heads and stood firm.

"All right," said their mother, "but you have to do what the desk sergeant says, no ripping off posters off the wall, no offering to track down the criminals, and no wanting to ''help' the detectives type out their reports."

"We're to meet at the front of Trinity College in the evening," said Miss Parker. "I don't know the time, but I'd suspect it'd be around seven or eight." She turned to see a small hand tugging at her.

"Can we go and see the criminals?" asked Patricia in all innocence.

"No," snapped her mother.

They got off the plane, including Charles and Margaret and went to look for a private Catholic hospital for middle aged patients, while Rachel hailed a taxi that took her and her children to the nearest Dublin police station.

As Antonio said, getting a private practicing physician in Ireland cost money. The doctor ushered Sydney in to his office while the children started to look at the toys. Debbie pointed out to Gemini her rendition of Irish culture, which mainly came from old movies and Charles, who was partially descended from the ancient Gauls, pointed out to the older children some of the famous Irish heroes.

"It'll be some time," said the receptionist, "at least a couple of hours."

"All right," said Miss Parker, "we'll just walk around." She smiled and they all left, and then suddenly …

"Mother, angels!"

"Patricia what is it?"

"Angels on the wall."

"I don't see any."

_The inner sense had entered her daughter_

"Invisible mother," she said in frustration.

Miss Parker breathed with relief. The little girl did not have that curse. She put it down to her daughter having a greater faith than she had. _I must talk to a priest about this_, she thought and then dismissed it. The Centre might have gotten to the priest as well.

Now having visions of that time in California, where Jeremiah encouraged his younger brothers and sisters to run so the grownups would get frustrated, Miss Parker made a beeline for the nearest store for child harnesses — preferably made of child resistant material. Jarod was out searching for information and she couldn't think it right for Antonio or the other Dominants in the party to take over the discipline.

Still as they walked along the streets, the children showed no signs of skipping away and then she saw the bulge in Antonio's pocket. Surely, he didn't threaten to shoot them if they did, but with Lambourni she wasn't sure. She decided to ask Jarvis.

"You've been quite good," she said and seeing his prideful look, "I mean excellent in behavior."

"Antonio said that we have to show dili-diligents –for evil Sapiens who makes children labor in evil movies might entice us."

"What do you mean evil movies?"

"I have no idea. I think its movies where the children have to steal things and lie."

"Yes, your oldest brother's right. You shouldn't be in those types of movies. And it's not right. You have to go to Acting School and do years and years of study. And get up very early in the morning, and memorize your lines and learn how to jump off buildings," she said, hoping her wide-eyed expression impressed on her son how much work real acting was.

"Oh!" He lost his superiority look, almost.

"You remember me telling you that Margaret had to do her voice training? That she wanted to come on the plane with us, but she couldn't. She has to go to London first and in a big crowded airplane with lots of people and she probably has to stay in an old hotel, all dusty, the toilets don't work, and her room will probably be very very cold. And she has to go every morning to the theatre and practice for hours until she gets her lines right!"

"Oh. If I see an evil person wanting me to do some bad movies, I'll tell a policeman."

"Good Jarvis." She checked her watch. They had time to get a meal before getting back to the doctor's office.

They stopped in at a family restaurant that specialized in country dishes. The woman served them Potato soup, Corned Beef and Cabbage, Bangers and Mash, Dublin Coddle, and every other Irish dish so that Miss Parker was unable to discern what of the group ordered what. And she felt so embarrassed when Jeremiah dug his fork into Antonio's Baked Salmon, and Adrian decided he really didn't like Boxty, so he tried to pass it off to Debbie who really only wanted the Pea and Ham Soup. As for Patricia and Olivia, both were arguing about the Irish Stew. One wanted it, the other wanted it, and as soon as they tasted it, decided they no longer wanted it. Gemini had no idea what he wanted so Miss Parker then asked the cook for some more plates and before anyone protested, handed each a tablespoon from the various bowls.

When it came for dessert, however, no one wanted to share, and everyone wanted what the other one had.

"That's it," she said as they all left the restaurant, "I had a hard time nursing the babies with all of you poking in this dish or the other. And to actually take most of your oldest brother's salmon, Jeremiah, that was very rude."

Jeremiah just looked up at his mother, seemingly so innocent. She shook her head.

At the Doctor's office, they looked for Sydney, but he wasn't there. By now, Miss Parker was besides herself. She had read stories like this, where someone felt a little ill, went along with a friend to — well it was a hotel room in the story — and then when the friend came back, everyone denied that the person ever existed.

The story was that the person had bubonic plague, or Spanish flu – something dreadful.

A few minutes later, the doctor came in the door. "Sorry for being so late," he said. "I had to check your friend in at the hospital."

"Hospital?"

"Yes, St. Anne's. It's a private residence. It was his request," said the doctor, showing Miss Parker the appropriate forms that one used in case of an emergency admittance.

"Sydney would never do that," whispered Sam.

"Your friend?" asked the doctor. "I should him his EKG, took his blood pressure, dangerously high. I also performed various tests. Do you want it straight?"

"Yes doctor," said Miss Parker.

"His arteries are clogged, and his heart rates erratic. What kept him alive for this long is a miracle, but if he makes it through the night, it'll be a miracle."

Her face almost pale, Miss Parker sat down in the chair. Jarod had told her that he'd be at Trinity College that night, but Sydney might not last that long. And how was he going to react? She remembered seeing that video of the reporter talking to the Triumvirate. How they told him that if Sydney were gone, Jarod would cease to exist. Either it meant, the erasure of much of his personality, or his becoming vicious. Then, she saw a face, a familiar face among the Dublin crowd outside. _It couldn't be_, she thought, _he's supposed to be dead!_


	25. He's Back!

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

The Dublin police station was those quaint little places that looked better in a movie then in person. The place reeked of behind the times. Even the computers looked like something Bill Gates learned on, and the telephones were of a uniform color, black.   
The walls had panels of a muted green, with pictures of various felons and recruitment posters. Every desk had piles of papers that almost overwhelmed the police officers behind. There was a smell of overcrowding, of beer, and overwork and as Rachel Burke walked in, she was sure that, anytime soon, a character out of a 1940 British Film Noire would suddenly appear.

A woman in a light blue shirt and a dark navy skirt sat on a chair behind a desk, having a cup of tea. Two policemen or constables, as Rachel heard, came in with a young woman, a tart by her skimpy attire, between them.

"Look coppers," she said, "I aint done anything, not a thing. Here I was minding my own business, waiting for the bus when Samson and Golden Boy snatched me!" She glared at the two constables.

"How do you do, Sally," said the police woman, "glad you came to pay us a visit.. Hello?" She was looking at Rachel. "That's a new one."

Rachel just smiled and asked for whoever was working on the most dangerous cases.

"Oh," said the female officer, pointing to the door to the right, "That's Patrick O'Halligan. He's in charge of bloody murders. Me, I just get stuck with girls like Sally here who haven't got the sense to stop doing something that would get them killed."

Rachel thanked her and knocked on the door.

"Come in." The voice was rough, the kind that happened after too many sleepless nights and too many cigarettes in too many dingy pubs and the man inside looked like he had been through the wringer at both ends

He was going over several folders, taking out the picture of one scoundrel, a photograph of one of his victims, and shaking his head as if the one who committed the crime was a master at eluding every police officer in the world.

"Rachel Burke, FBI profiler." She knocked on the door, and opened it just a bit as she introduced herself.

"Patrick O'Halligan, overworked police detective," said the rather red man in the desk. He did look red, orange hair, reddish face, and Miss Burke was sure he had red flannel underwear. Certainly, it looked too cold to wear boxers or briefs. "Please sit down."

"Thank you. Oh, do you have someone to look after my children? It's their first time over here."

"Why of course." He smiled and called over a policewoman.

"Hello children, I'm Miss Smith."

"Hello," said Naomi.

"Can you show us the dungeon?" asked David.

"Our jails are bigger," added Charles.

"All right come along children," said Miss Smith, "I'll even show you the torture chamber." She winked at Rachel with a smile.

After Constable Smith took the children on a tour of the police station, Rachel and Detective O'Halligan got down to business.

"You see, Miss Burke, we're in a spot. Have you heard of the Russian Mafia?"

"They're making inroads in New York City, mostly the Brighton Beach area, controlling many of the businesses n that area. Most of them are former KGB officials with quite a following of minor or major criminals to make it interesting.

"They're over here. I don't know how it happened, but there's a mob led by this one bloke. I haven't seen him, but the blighter's been described as quite good looking, reddish brown hair. He's quite a charmer."

"I see. Now since we've had dealings with the Russian Mafia, what makes this man more of a threat?"

"What dealings, Miss Burke? Their modus operendi?"

She listed on how the Russian Mafia acted, how they kept control of their victims by threatening to eliminate members of their family or themselves if they failed to obey. "There was a case of a Sophia Ivanov whom they brought over from Moscow. When she found she was not going to work as a seamstress in one of their businesses, but in a house of prostitution, she rebelled. She informed us of our doings, and we arranged for an agent to meet her."

"What happened to this bird?"

"Oh Miss Ivanov: They found her in the Hudson, her eyes had been cut out, as well as other parts of her body I need not mention. It was a warning for the other girls not to try anything. Now how is this man any different?"

O'Harrigan's lip seemed to narrow and his face showed only a glimpse of the horror. "He doesn't wait. If he even suspects, or let me say, imagines that someone will betray him, he'll kill them and not only that, their families."

Rachel leaned back. "Their families?"

"In the most horrific way possible of which I will list only the least disgusting, drowning, suffocation, and shooting. He even decapitated one bloke, put his head in the boot of his motor car and as for the rest of him, we haven't found them yet. I suspect he's sort of a new version of Sweeney Todd, you know the demon barber."

"Sweeney Todd? I thought it was just a fairy tale."

"Oh it was true. He took the heads off his victims literally and his wife made these pies that had an odd flavor to them. His barber chair was designed in such a way, and there was a trap door under the barber seat." He made a downward swooping motion with his hands.

Rachel blinked and shook her head. If Sweeney Todd existed in the twenty first century, shed probably be put on his case, but who was this new Sweeney Todd? ' "I guess you have your tales of horror as well."

"Not as much as this blighter, decked up as if he were the king of England, and so soft spoken, friendly, too friendly from what my contact told me," he said as Rachel leaned closer. "We did take his picture when he passed by a bank which had one of those security cameras outside. I had it enlarged." He took a photograph out of a plain brown envelope and handed it to the Profiler.

Miss Burke looked at the face of a handsome man with reddish brown hair, a man who looked pleasant enough, with a smile, but his eyes — yes his eyes had a coldness that not even the careful airbrush done by a professional photographer, if this station had one, would have correct. It was the eyes of the killer. It was the eyes of Alex.


	26. A Portrait of Evil

Jarod and Miss Parker need a worthy adversary to go against them and he has a black file because no one said what color his file was.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

He had been quite young when The Centre had taken him as it did other youngsters, who had not only a high intelligence, but also the ability to become anyone they wanted to be and an ability that did not die out in time.

He was among the special, the eight or rather the nine. The Centre gave each child, a special file, named after a color. His was black. Each child had a special instructor, and each instructor did not associate with the other and the instructors were to make the child completely dependant on him.

At night, they locked the children into separate rooms or rather cells, bare with not even a chair or a blanket. During the day, they took him to another room with a table, a chair, and a typewriter so he could type out his solutions.

When he became old enough, that is in his early thirties, the Centre found another space for him, and he found that there were others, at least two like him, a man named Jarod and another man named Edward. They were what remained of the special nine.

For a time, things continued as before, simulations, feeding, simulations, elimination of bodily fluids, and sleep. And there were small glimpses of horrors, of needles, and of pain showing up in nightmare that all three shared, not all the same, but different. However, as their trainers told them, this was to be expected, childhood dreams and nightmares, giving physical presence to an imaginary fear.

Then one night, Jarod persuaded them to escape. He had found out something that life in the Centre was not all good, that they were not free men, but belong to the Centre because of a certain gene in their makeup, the Pretender gene.

Therefore, when Jarod opened Ed's cell, being closer to him, Alex asked to go along and they fled. They climbed up the ladder to the next level, going higher and higher, until Alex fell.

He did not know how long he lay there, but he remembered waking up in the infirmary and that from now on his life changed. A man as dark as the night came in, looked him over. There were handshakes, papers and some jewels exchanged, and Alex found himself shipped out of the Centre, a hood placed over his head, handcuffed and manacled.

Alex did not know how long he stayed in that strange place. Only that his training took a sinister turn. He had been punished before, had felt the strikes on his back, had felt his stomach gnawing from hunger, and half remembered the torture, the pills that caused extreme nausea, the drug that increased pain, but not like this.

They had him naked, tied to a metal post, in the hot sun, with a chain around his neck, long enough to reach another man, bound, also naked, but blindfolded and he was to kill him, strangle him. When he tried to refuse, they tightened the chain. He could feel his throat tighten. He got the idea. The man died.

Each victim was different, a man, a woman, a boy, a girl, a toddler, and even an infant and they also trained him in different ways, so that soon, Alex could do anything. He was able to pass as a doctor, a lawyer, a stevedore, a pimp, a teacher, a bakery worker, a singer, etc. He had no morals, no compunctions, and was very charming, and this charm paid off.

It was night and after a particular job in which he was a truck driver, a truck driver who came into a bar and killed the new union boss so the former boss, loyal to the Triumvirate would get back in power.

That night, he climbed out the window of the hotel, and using his intelligence and resources, made it back to the States. Once in the States, he remembered his parents, and his sister. They were the reason why he was as he was. The only way he could rectify the situation and stay free of the Centre and the Triumvirate was to get rid of them and he did.

When the papers came out that someone had murdered an entire family, Alex was free. It was then that he met them.

They were like him, extremely intelligent, and could do more than he could. They knew who he was before they saw him, they were stronger, could jump from heights he never could attain. As he continued with them, however, he gained the same skills, but still remembered who had not helped him, those who were responsible for his being naked, forced to obey, chained like a dog in the hot South African sun.

That Jarod and Edward had gone through tortures just as horrid during their confinement in the Centre did not occur to Alex. He was the only one who suffered wrong.

He needed time to recover, to make his plans.

He learned one thing about his new friends, the Dominants or New Species as they called themselves, their intelligence surpassed the rest of mankind. One night, he entered a building and discovered in a secret room, that they were cloning a man.

At first, he wanted to inquire as to how, but decided against it. This required secrecy and so he observed. They took a sample of the man's DNA, and put it in a plastic tube, injecting another substance inside. Then they did something, he did not fathom. They inserted the tube into a large one, that in another one.

When they were not looking, he took one of the smaller tubes. He had it in his hand for a few minutes, when it dissolved. Not content with that experiment, he took a larger tube and although it took longer, it too disappeared, becoming a gaseous substance, odorless and invisible. Alex realized that as the clone grew, the container it was in became too small. It took a week in which he finally witnessed the clone.

It looked exactly like the original. It was a clone.

He soon learned how some clones were able to pass and others not. It was a thin, leading from the cortex of the originals, or a substitute. The original implanted his memories, while the substitute implanted theirs.

He also found that by entering sections of the brain, only certain memories were implanted. He learned where they stored the short-term memory, the long term memory, and the memory that was in between and unlike the homo sapiens, the time period when each occurred.

That was it. If he could clone himself, he could go anywhere and do anything. His clone would get the blame and his clone would be himself.

He had no idea what most clones were, but he learned that identical twins were rarer in the new species, the Chosen, or their leader having one as well as one of their lawyers, having two daughters who looked alike. They made most clones of this type when the original was just born or even extracting a cell out of one of the unborn infants. That, however, was risky since they had no idea what one of the four – they always had four infants at a time — had a clone. You had to be very important to have the process. Clones were not for ordinary Dominants and Alex was one.

It was hard to imagine that rather than being regarded as a superior being, highly intelligent who could mimic everyone, who just needed to look at a book and become a brain surgeon, but that's how it was. Alex came from the Dominants who originated in Poland and Russia, why even that lawyer was married to one, but they were just run of the mill ordinary Pretenders. He couldn't even claim that one of his ancestors was Anastasia or the Tsar of all Russia.

So when he learned enough, he used his Pretender skill to get into the laboratory and taking a needle, took some blood from under his fingernails and inserted it in the tube, along with the catalyst. He had no idea what it was, only it was not the nucleus of an egg, but he knew it made his duplicate grow and it did.

Alex knew that the Centre had implanted something in his brain just under his skull. He had seen the Centre doctors do it at the fertility clinic and he had stolen one. It was simple to keep it in a small container.

As soon as the clone was birth sized, Alex inserted the chip to his duplicate and put on the helmet that would transfer his thoughts and memories to it. The clone grew, and the tube dissolved, the clone became Alex. When he reached the stage before the others found him, he stopped but as soon as he did, the clone started to stir and saw himself.

That would not do. Alex realized that during the process of implantation, the clone was unconscious. Quickly, he reinserted the wire and waited until it was night when the others would return.

As soon as the door opened, Alex wrapped his double in a large blanket and said to the others, "The humans tried to kill him. I'm taking him to the Medical."

They let him pass and soon he and his clone disappeared.

Alex could not leave the clone without the implant, and usual drugs that rendered homo sapiens unconscious did not work. He had to use the drugs used to subdue large animals and while the clone slept, Alex went on his way to revenge himself against Jarod and the Centre, implanting that memory into the clone. The first thing he did was to kill Edward, but failed to find his son. The New Species got to the child before he did.

However, the boy soon found he was also of the New Species and told the others. Trapped Alex did the only thing he could. He revived the clone.

He watched as the clone, believing him to be Alex, reviled them, and found out the truth that he still was not free.

_Not free?_ Alex thought. _I am just as much property now as I was in the Centre?_

He showed no mercy as they being just as strong as he, put the clone on the table, and removed the chip. Oh they used antiseptics and drugs, but still Alex could see himself suffer, could see himself scream in pain and he realized that it was himself dying.

He left for New York, met members of the Russian Mafia and soon rose to be one of their heads. He could not stay in the United States. He waited for his chance.

He needed someone who looked like him, but the only someone was a Boris who lived in Dublin, Ireland. To say it was a coincidence was true, a horrible coincidence for if Alex had not killed Boris, he would have stayed in the United States and would have eventually been eliminated by his own species.

As for what happened after he got there, the Dublin police knew of his rise to power, and his elimination of his enemies, real and imaginary.

Now he had learned that the Centre was now in control of Miss Parker and that lawyer and that Jarod was with them. All he had to do was to wait and waiting was something he did very well.


	27. Trinity College

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

Jarod had found quite a bit about the Jamiesons and MacEarrans from Tory and Michael. He also found out why both men had kept this knowledge hidden. They were afraid for their lives and only his pretense as an investigator and telling them of similar incidents made them open up. The incidents were true, buried in a Centre file, and not even Broots could crack it. Only a Homo Dominant like the Pretender could and that meant that the Centre had forced one of his kind to create the file.

The Jamiesons were descended from a woman who in the Viking period, strangled a slave girl after she had been repeatedly raped by her dead master's friends, a woman known as the Angel of Death. The MacEarrans were descended from the Druids who, unlike the peaceful story put on by the European traditionalists, put their victims in a cage to burn alive or either bludgeoned or otherwise brutally murdered even innocents on their sacred night to see the future by the way he or she died. And for such to escape punishment by either the victim's family, they needed abilities not found in normal man. They needed to commune with the dead or rather with demons.

It was too coincidental to see how Miss Parker's grandmother married a Mr. Jamieson who was descended from the Angel of Death. The Centre was responsible or perhaps the Triumvirate.

Using the laptop, Jarod had searched for information on the now dead Triumvirate. He knew all about apartheid, that it had been alive when the Parkers conducted that South African organization. He found that the Triumvirate was originally rather an Afrikaan whose father and mother were Afrikaans, an Afrikaan whose mother was English, and an Englishman — well, that was the reason they did not call it the Quadrimvirate, if there was such a thing. The Englishman was Mr. Parker who had inherited from his father, Lamech Parker who inherited it from his father who just happened to be taking a trip to South Africa when he happened on a diamond find.

The wealth of the Triumvirate came from diamonds mined by Zulu workers. There was only way that Mutambo could have gotten to the head of the Triumvirate. He had murdered two of the original owners and what he thought was the third head. That started the Triumvirate believing they owned the Centre. Actually, Mr. Parker was partially owner of the Triumvirate, or rather a silent partner. The man standing in his place had been acting on his behalf and he never got a chance to tell before he was murdered.

Unfortunately, when the Centre needed money, it was after Mutambo and several workers, who honored him as a Zulu chief, took over. It was just bad timing. In reality, the Centre and the Triumvirate were equal, but no one could tell Mutambo that.

Of course finding that the Triumvirate never was the boss would please Miss Parker while she ran her hands under Jarod's waist and felt his — at this, his heart started to beat faster.

_Stop it, Jarod, control! It must be mating time again. _

After closing his eyes, and breathing slowly, Jarod filed the information about the Triumvirate and immediately typed what he knew about Miss Parker's ancestors. He went to Yahoo, searched for Oslo, Norway, but in order to make a map of the village, he had to type in a destination and he did not have a portable printer on him, and none with the proper voltage.

He typed in the name of the nearest village and then typed in the name of its hotel, naturally the same name as the village. It was a lucky guess, but a correct one. . Convinced that there were other villages near Oslo, he proceeded to repeat the procedure, which reminded him of the time they looked for the Deadbeat. He hoped this would be easier.

It was now getting near the time when Miss Parker would arrive and Jarod waited for the short burst of pain, but it never came, instead she and company walked over.

"Did you find out about my grandparents?" she asked.

"The Centre arranged their meeting and probably their marriage." He looked up at her. "Do you find it coincidental that you had the Inner Sense and it was so strong?"

"From my mother."

"And how coincidental was it that your mother met and married your father and how they captured me and then they started to think of a super Pretender?" He paused. "a Pretender with the inner sense."

Miss Parker gasped. "What did my grandparent have?"

"He was descended from a woman whose job it was to see that a slave girl accompanied her Viking chieftain to the afterlife. She strangled her."

"So?"

"She was probably chosen because she had other gifts, perhaps divination, prophecy, a slight telepathy. It would not be a crazy old woman or even a midwife."

"And what if that gift died?"

"I suppose if I were a Viking, and my sister had that gift, I'd have a hard time finding a husband for her unless the groom also had that gift."

She looked over his shoulder. "So that's what you've been doing."

"The maps of certain villages where the Jamiesons came from. This document contains the background of your maternal grandmother and the reason why you were sent after me."

"Look," she said in disgust, "I was sent to retrieve you, take you back to the Centre where you belonged."

"And what would have happened if you happened to get ahead of Sydney and Broots, and you had your gun on me and those handcuffs? Do you suppose we'd just talk?"

"I was given orders."

"—to bring me back to the Centre alive, but they didn't say in what condition."

She put her finger on her chin and tossed her head, making the infants squeal. "Oh and if I happened to get pregnant because I happened to ah overpower you, well that was an easy way to get a Super Pretender as I couldn't be blamed. My pretend father was messing with my mind. At least I knew Raines was evil."

"They both messed with your minds. Telling you were a prisoner like me. Well a prisoner does not get their own gun, live in their own house, gets an unlimited expense account. What's the most favored prisoner or slave besides me?"

"Ted, oh Alex and Damon."

"I have my doubts about Damon and Alex's dead. They wouldn't have you near a female Pretender. Lisa and Carla were okay because they were still young, but if you saw a female Pretender around your age, you'd realize you were free to come and go as you please. Oh, Raines would have killed you if you didn't bring me back, but you would have had a chance, you had a weapon."

"I kept you alive chasing you."

He shrugged. "Oh and you believed that? I wanted not only to be united with my family, but to be a father and the only way I could have gotten them was what happened or something similar."

She shuddered, thinking of the other alternatives, her dark fantasies made real, the captive of the Amazon queen — that story she read in a sweeper's magazine, written in explicit detail. _All those Hail Maries and having to give my allowance to the Orphanage for a whole month! I would have rather taken a beating. _But she was the Chairman's daughter, no beatings, no marks on her skin, no shut in a room, no grounding. No one would dare lend a hand against her unless he or she wanted to die.

Jarod interrupted her thoughts. "Anyway, we have to find out about the Jamiesons as well as my family's history."

"Oh, and why you, Jarod?"

"It's obvious. I have AB negative blood, very rare, a combination of European and Asian background. If I had A positive, B positive, A negative, B negative, or even AB positive blood, they wouldn't have looked so closely. The Centre believed it was my blood type that made me a Pretender, not my gene."

Miss Parker knew this already, and started thinking aloud, "A Pretender woman around my age."

"And you would have made friends with her, and rescued her. I doubt it, Miss Parker. Now you would, but then she'd still remain a prisoner. The other Pretenders, the ones not captured, escaped because they had ordinary blood. Edward was a fluke. He probably did something ah …"

She smiled. "Pretendish?"

"Pretendish to get him caught."

"Excuse me Miss Parker."

She turned to see Major Charles. "I was looking at the brochure and if we get in now, we can see the exhibits."

"Well, I don't need a tour guide," Lambourni said, "anyone here all for going to the Old Library, hurry up." He looked very impatiently at the group who were undecided between him and Major Charles. In fact, he gave up the idea that perhaps they should do what he wanted.

"What's in the Old Library?" asked Jeremiah.

"The Book of Kells. It's an old Irish Gospel book. Very expensive and has ornate decorations."

"I presume you mean Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John? How did they make it?"

"By hand."

The boy shrugged. "They could have used a printing press."

"You should pay attention to your education, Jeremiah," said his oldest brother with a slight sneer, "Coming Major?"

"I guess your son took over," said Major Charles, "we'll see you in a bit."

"Okay. We'll catch up with you. Oh and watch the kids, especially Jeremiah. He's a born instigator." She waved them off. Gem followed, entranced by seeing the famous College. "I wonder where Rachel is." She looked at her watch.

"I thought she was coming as well. I guess she took the kids out for something to eat," said Jarod.

"Yes, if they cook Jewish here," said Miss Parker. "She said she had to see the police inspector here, something about a case."

"You're not telling me something," said Jarod, "first you start talking to me as if you were still under the control of the Centre, and then you worry that Rachel, who is an FBI profiler and probably taking a working holiday, is not here. What is it?"

"Sydney's dying. Now I said it." She shut up after that, looking cautiously at Jarod expecting to hear the "No!" but nothing came out of Jarod's mouth. He didn't even change his expression. For the first time, she realized how different Homo Sapiens were from the Homo Dominant or the Pretenders. Death did not terrify them and they showed no sympathy to the deaths of others.

"Did you call Nicholas?"

"Of course, I called Nicholas! Aren't you going to say anything?"

"How long has he got?"

"The doctors think he'll last a day. He might want to talk to you."

"It's too late, Miss Parker. I can't change to a child, even though the Medicals might have the means to do that. That psychiatrist used that Virtual reality machine to get me to experience what others had. It worked, but it's not the same thing and I can't go back in time."

"We can't go to the hospital now. The nurses are making him comfortable and the doctor told me it would be best to come in the morning, about seven or eight. So, we'll look through the exhibits, take some pictures. And if Rachel's busy trying to help the Dublin police …"

"If I see some terrorists carrying a suspicious box about the size of a coffin with an LED indicator on the side with the numbers counting down and I hear a faint ticking, I'll call her and let her know."

She smiled, imagining swarthy men with black hair and beards, and wearing T-shirts in Arabic proclaiming, "Allah is Supreme and Mohammed is his Prophet. Die all Infidels!"


	28. Dancer

Since Catherine Parker had been a dancer before she took her vows and since Miss Parker obviously inherited her ability, it is only reasonable that one of her grandchildren would also inherit that ability.

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

Olivia tapped her toes as she watched the Irish dancers, young Sapien girls, dressed in black and green, their arms perfectly still at their sides, as they performed a jig. She started to hum the tune, and at the same time, watch how the girls in the black and green kept time to the music, her instincts recording each step, her mind knowing at what beat, the right leg went up, when the left leg bent, and at what ankle both crossed together. .

So far, no one had noticed her slip away, not her father and mother, nor her brothers or sisters. Only Patricia kept her eyes on her, when she wasn't looking at the large ornate cross that hung on the wall and the man with the reddish brown hair.

She could see someone behind him, or rather her mind did, something horrible so horrible that she almost closed her eyes.

Meanwhile, Olivia had gotten up and went over to the dancers; imitating their steps. She was nervous at first, but then forgot that she was a tourist, and at once, brought her mouth into a smile, her eyes suddenly sparkled, and she danced, her feet moving precisely on the wooden floor as the harp, violin, and flute played an ancient Irish melody.

"Ah look at the pretty Colleen," said an old woman.

_Tap, ti, tappity, tap, The dancers click their heels on the ground. _

Olivia smiled, and continued stepping with them, not noticing that the older girls separated to let her in.

"A natural," said another woman

_Now the girls do a slight curtsey as the music slows down for a little bit. Tappity, tap, tap, tap. _

The other girls kept their steps, trying hard to look serious as the second woman went over to the leader of the troupe who watched to see if any of her girls did not loose their rhythm.

_The music speeds up and the dancers move their right legs forward. Tap, ti, tappity, tap, ti, tap. _

Olivia did not care. She was floating on air, being happy, doing something that she could do, and not see angels like her sister.

The teacher found a costume her size, and Olivia quickly changed behind the long skirts and bodies of the leader and her assistant. Two of the younger girls moved aside to give her a spot and the tempo of the music picked up to a fast jig.

"That must be the father over there," said the assistant, but the teacher stopped her.

"By the way, that other girl looks at him, Fiona, he's not."

"What other girl, Miss O'Malley?"

"The one who was looking at the cross," she replied.

"Future nun," said the assistant.

They both nodded knowingly.

An old man who heard the whispers, shook his head. "Not her. My sister was like that, staring at crosses. She wound up working for the IRA, sending people to hell. Sure and it was the crosses reminded her of the deaths she would visit."

"How about I talk to the little girl?" asked Fiona who believed in goodness in everybody.

"It would be best."

Patricia was a little wary of the woman, trying to press her body against the wall, but Fiona was gentle. She asked her who the man was, but all Patricia said was that he was a bad man.

"And is that your friend?" asked Fiona, pointing to the dancing Olivia.

"My sister. We're fratral quadrups."

"Do you mean fraternal quadruplets?"

"Yes."

"Maybe we can get you in the front away from that bad man. What do your parents look like?"

"Father's tall. He has brown eyes and his hair's over his shoulders and it's dark brown with some red in it. Mother's tall too and she has dark hair, she says its brunette, but she's skinny and she has very very long legs." She shook her head. "I don't look like them, but my brothers and Olivia do. They tried to make my hair dark, but Father and Mother were very angry and we climbed up the roof and …"

_And such a story you make up my little one_, thought Fiona. "I'll find someone to notify your parents. She didn't want to ask what the parents called each other. The child would probably say mommy and daddy. "What's your last name?"

"Angela," said Patricia.

"I'll find your mother and father." For some reason, she felt that using the term, mommy and daddy, would be inappropriate. _The little girl looks wise beyond her years and no wonder with her sister dancing as if she had taken lessons from when she was in her mother's womb. Maybe I could use my influence to get them in a good private school. That old man's wrong. That child will never grow up to be a killer, but there was something in her eyes. A policewoman_, she thought, and ran off.

The tune now changed to _The Irish Washerwoman_ and the audience was on the dancers, especially the little girl with the dark brown hair, her feet tapping lightly, her eyes shining, her arms perfectly straight as if she had been doing this since before birth.

_The violin now takes the main tune and the harp and flutes are merely accompaniments. _

_Tap, tap, tap, tapity, tap, tap, tapity, tap, tap, tapity, tap, tap, tapity. _

"And such a lovely colleen," said the Old Woman again.

"Olivia?" Miss Parker's mouth gaped open, unable to say anything beyond that point. It was like seeing her mother again, only her mother had been a ballerina and even with lessons, her mother had never attained the perfection that Olivia had.

Jarod too was astonished, but only for a second. He waved his hand in front of Miss Parker's eyes to assure her that they weren't dreaming. "She's like what you said your mother was like."

"No Jarod," said Miss Parker, still in a daze, "Mother was never that good."

"Hi mother, hi father," said Olivia, not missing a step, her arms perfectly straight, her right leg now bent out at the knee as she prepared to go into the next phrase of the dance,

And as she spoke, the music changed, so the little girl imitated the other girls, crossed her legs, and stepped, one foot in front of the other, her hair flying, while the violinist, the harpist and the flutist played


	29. Orders Must be Obeyed

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

Now it appeared as things were going as planned as far as Alex was concerned. He had just discovered that there were those like himself in Dublin, and all he had to do was to find out who they were. That little girl near the crucifix, the one with that wavy dark hair reminded him of someone, the shape of her face — and the sardonic smile on her face. He had seen it once before, on a tall man, one of his own kind – Jarod's child? Ah, yes, the Centre would have bred more like himself and with the death of the Parkers, all the property would have fled.

— And there had been one dancing, a little fair-haired girl.

However, there was probably a Centre satellite, somewhere in Ireland, and behind those children, their owners. The prophecy said that the Centre would rise again. The present Centre was just helping people, not like the old Centre, the old and powerful Centre. Perhaps now, they were rebuilding their forces here in Ireland, but why would they let two of their charges free unless the plans of the new Centre were underneath the basement and sub basement of this vast Trinity College. All he needed to do was to find out where.

"Ding ding ding ding ding ding ding du ding – ding ding ding ding ding ding ding du ding ding du ding du da ding da da ding da da ding da da ding da da ding ding ding ding ding."

Alex flipped open his cell phone when the introduction to "Midnight in Moscow" ended.. "Hello."

"Return to headquarters," said the voice in Russian.

"Not now," Alex replied, "I am very busy."

"Stop what you are doing. It is imperative that you return here or else."

Alex closed his cell phone, walked casually out the College, smiled at the girl, got in his motorcar, and left.

There was a crowd singing when Alex entered the pub, going through the various young people who danced to the music. He pushed through the mob — going to the door at the back, through the kitchen staff, out to the back door, and into the restaurant across the cobblestone road.

He knocked on the door, six times, said, "Девочки в Москве преданы."

The door opened. "Welcome Alex."

Here the dancers showed more of their flesh than the innocents dancing in the pub and some of them were completely naked, but no matter whether they wore just a G-string, a thong, or nothing at all, they all had a vacant defeated expression on their faces. Alex just ignored them. They were nothing, bodies for the use of the men.

The man sitting at the table was quite heavy set, Slavic features, wearing a Russian army colonel's uniform. He leaned with the confidence of those whom all obeyed. Once a heavy in the KGB, Vladimir Petrochov now ran a pseudo immigration bureau, sending young girls and women from the former Eastern European satellites of the Soviet Union, supposedly as maids to wealthy western houses.

Only it wasn't an employment agency. It was white slavery, girls forced into prostitution.

"What's going on? I'm not in that business."

"Ah the business of finding young girls jobs as 'nurses and housekeepers', not your business, but you are in the habit of enforcing, of punishing those who disobey." He handed Alex a photograph. "Do you know her?"

Alex shook his head. The girl looked about twenty, was probably seventeen, the type of girl from the country, her face pale almost white from living in a climate that went to forty below in the winter, her lips chapped. She wore a pale peach blouse and a brown skirt and she had dark red hair, and green eyes. She looked like the type of girl who went to work in the offices of most Russian cities, going home each night, bringing her paycheck to help her parents. This girl didn't work in an office.

"Marissa Saretov. She's been complaining to the police about her working conditions. . Naturally we want to make her an example." He snapped his hands apart as if he were breaking a trig.

"After some time, I suppose."

Petrochov smiled. "You are very charming, Alex. Court her, try to persuade her or make her believe you are courting her, but the end is what I want. I will read the papers."

"Where is she?" asked Alex. "I can get the job done and return here."

"Ah but Alex, she is in Constantinople."

Alex's eyes matched his stare. He didn't want to go to Constantinople when he had everything he wanted here. He knew that the Centre had had connections over there and besides there were other Russian mobs there. There he had to compete against other gang lords in the Russian Mafia, as the West called them.

The former KGB agent took something under the table and handed it to Alex. "Your passport, the location of your apartment is in the left side of the briefcase, plus enough money to keep you in style. The plane tickets are in the right hand pocket, first class of course. By the way, Alex, the implements you need to persuade the young lady are in the apartment as well as most of the cash."

Taking the briefcase, Alex left, but it wasn't that easy. Vladimir and two of Vladimir's men got in, one in the passenger seat, and one behind, and both carried weapons.

"So you don't trust me," he said.

"It is important that you eliminate the problem, Alex. It means a higher position, my second in command." Vladimir smiled. "Perhaps you and I become friends."

"Da," Alex replied.

As they rode towards the airport, Vladimir explained his plans of taking over as head of the Russian Mafia, uniting all the cells and groups into his, not realizing that Alex was thinking of himself as the head of the Russian Mafia, uniting all the cells —

"Have a pleasant trip," said Vladimir after they saw Alex in his seat and got off just before the sign went on for the passengers to fasten their seatbelts. He couldn't leave. Vladimir had made sure that Alex had a window seat and that the person on the aisle seat was an extremely obese woman.

So Alex stared out the window, seeing several police cars drive towards the runway, seeing the security guard go for his phone, but then the plane lifted off the runway, and took off to Constantinople.


	30. Vladamir's Interrogator

CHAPTER THIRTY

Rachel got out of the police car, and saw the plane ascend into the sky, she felt as if – well it was only a temporary setback. The man they were pursuing was Russian and that would mean getting in touch with Moscow.

She went back to talk to the inspector who, with two of his men, was holding a rather burly man with Slavic features. "I'll need to know where that plane is going and get in touch with Interpol."

The burly man just spat.

"Sure and this blighter's a bit uncooperative," said the inspector, his eyes having a deceptive twinkle in them, "and I'm sure that if I were to make a call to the Russian embassy, it wouldn't be pleasant for him."

"I tell you nothing."

"Aye, and I'm Saint Patrick's great grandson."

"The prisons in Russia aren't that comfortable," said Rachel, leaning over the man. They were now in a room in the airport, waiting for the man's solicitor.

He soon arrived, and told the prisoner that he had better cooperate or he would be deported. The man swore in Russian, which the solicitor translated meant something physically impossible to do even by a contortionist. The prisoner also admitted that he could do gaol time in Irish prisons, standing on his head.

"We won't get anything from him," Rachel said and gave something to the inspector.

"Here's a photograph of a girl, Marissa Saretov and something else. If you permit, I can question him."

"No we'll use Constable Brian. We'll meet him at the station."

Constable Brian was a large man, red of hair, and probably had run several wrestling matches. He matched the Russian in size and strength.

"You can use Room two for the interrogation, constable."

"Yes sir."

Room two had the usual table and two chairs with the recorder. It also had a shelf on the wall with several books about police procedural, interrogation methods, and a large Oxford dictionary piled on top of other hardcover dictionaries.

"I no talk to you," said Vladimir glaring at Constable Brian who smiled as if the Russian was his best friend.

"Those medals are from serving in the Russian army. Only those higher ups get them, aye?" He looked at the note the inspector handed him. "Correct, Vladimir Petrochov?"

The man's silence gave confirmation.

"Aren't you wanted for various criminal activities in Moscow?" He leaned over the table, his right foot pushing it so it pinned Vladimir against the wall, but the former Russian army officer did not complain.

"I will be a hero. Moscow will be proud of me."

"Sure and I will gain sainthood. Are you comfortable?"

Vladimir grunted. "I am large man, like you Mr. Policeman. I need to breath."

"Oh sorry," said Brian who lifted the heavy table and moved it back. "Is that all right?"

"Da."

"I guess you're rather unsure about English. We do have a Russian English dictionary on the top shelf."

Petrochov sneered "You are fool, Irishman. I read little English. I see many books on top. You no meet one like me. You no understand me. I go now." He got up as if to leave, but before he did, Brian reached up, put his hand under the pile of books and at the same time, the shelf went way, and all the books fell on the floor.

"Oh the saints preserve me," he said in mock sorrow, "Aye and the chief told me not to lean against the shelf."

The Russian did not say anything. His face went white as he saw the constable pick up the loose end of the shelf, and hold it up, while putting his other hand over his mouth to stop a yawn.

"Are you all right?" asked the inspector opening the door and called back to two other policemen, both who looked as if they could win a brawl. "O'Leary, Cosby, Brian's knocked down the shelf again. Get a hammer and this time, make sure it stays."

The muscles of the two policemen bulged as they lifted the shelf up and attached it to the wall. They also had trouble with the dictionaries, which were quite heavy.

"Now," said the Constable with a smile as he leaned over the Russian, "about that plane."

A call to the airport showed that the plane, along with two others, was on the regular commercial flight for Istanbul. Rachel sent a fax of Alex's photograph to the Istanbul police headquarters as well as to Interpol and picked up the children at the police station who were rather upset that they didn't get a tour of the torture chamber or so where the police threw away the keys Rachel then called Jarod and Miss Parker on her cell phone.

She told them of the situation, leaving out the details as to who she was after, only that he had escaped to Istanbul, he was in the Russian Mafia, and they had faxed a photo to the Turkish police as well as Interpol.

"Any chance of getting whoever he is?" asked Jarod.

"This being the holiday season, I doubt it. There were extra flights booked. You should have seen the trouble we had at the airport. By the time, we found the flight he was on, it was about to leave and the airport security had us show our id before letting us on the runway. By then it was too late. The plane had just taken off, but we did get somebody."

"So I guess that means you'll be at the police station. We have to go to the hospital in the morning to see Sydney. You know about his high blood pressure. The doctor's think that he'll probably not survive past the morning, but we're hoping he's wrong. If you need help, Miss Parker knows Ukrainians and Russian. I do too, but someone's got to watch Jeremiah."

She whispered to the inspector who told her no, and turned back to speak to Jarod. "They said no. I'd guess it's because Miss Parker and you aren't in the police force."

"We're going to spend the night in a hotel near the hospital. Miss Parker tried to get a suite at The Bridge House, but with the tourist season, it's booked up. We tried others, but with all of us, and even with Miss Parker adding a few extra pounds or guinea to grace the desk clerk, they said no. I don't want any of us separate, but we got bookings on a hotel that's due for renovations. Right now, she's packing the Lysol, something about mice. It's not exactly four stars, but it'll do."

"All right, Jarod. I'll meet you at the hospital. What room is Sydney in, by the way?"

Jarod gave her the number and hung up.

Rachel turned to her children who were talking incessantly about the firing range and asking when could they get weapons.

"You have to go through special training," she said. "Didn't you learn that at school?"

Naomi shook her head. "No, all we had to do was to repeat 'We will rule in the kingdom of man' and read that chapter on the book about the Diaspora from Mexico."

"I'm sure you are taught more than that."

"We did learn about Sirius," said Charles in all seriousness. "Do you know that the planets surrounding it are all ruled by canine type intelligence?"

"Oh?"

"Yes, our mentor told us that there is another star nearby, which these canine intelligences are always attacking."

"I suppose it's called something like Feline," said Rachel with a smile.

Charles was rather disappointed that his mother had caught on to his jest.

"You said about your friends booking a hotel," said the inspector.

"I told them I'd meet them in the morning," said Rachel, "but it is quite late. Have you started to question our guest yet?"

"We're waiting for his solicitor. He should arrive in the morning and I want you to be there."

Rachel shook her head. "I'd like to, but I'm afraid I have to be at the hospital. A dying friend," She said no more. She didn't know Sydney, only by reputation and she kept her silent fear in her heart. Her own children had developed quickly, walking before they were five months old, talking in sentences when they were less than a year. Their childhood was so short and yet they did not venture far from her. When other children of the same age would try to run out into the streets, they stayed in the yard that surrounded the duplex where they lived. They would go with one of their own, an older Dominant male and or female, but that was as far as it went. It was as if they instinctively knew their time with their parents would be short and they needed to spend the most time with her. She felt sorry for Jarod who had been ripped from his own parents and his short childhood condensed even more.

David yawned and looked at his mother. He did not want to sleep. None of the children wanted to sleep.

The inspector had a house next to the police station. It used to be a cottage and s still called by that name. His wife made up two of the bunk beds for the children and after Rachel told them a story about her capturing some vicious criminals, they went to sleep. Most of it she exaggerated for their benefit with stuff such as "he had a claw instead of a hand" and "when he finished drinking, there was a red stain around his mouth," — at this, she would go, "Ooo," and the three children would listen wide eyed.


	31. Making Whoopie!

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

Rain pelted against the window of the hotel room where Jarod and Miss Parker were staying. So much for demanding the top floor, he thought, turning off the laptop, and unplugging the converter from the wall. He could hear Miss Parker in the washroom, putting the coins in the machine that turned on water for the shower, removed his trousers, shirt, and waited; his clothes now in the drawer, the outer door to the hall locked against little intruders with childish voices.

He was overcome by an instinctual need and he kept imagined Miss Parker in one of those short Baby Doll negligees – _well, forget the negligee, Margo_!

She stood now at the door, her hair dripping, dressed only in a towel. "Are the children asleep?" she asked.

"Yes, and I called the hospital, he said in a stilted voice as if trying even more to control the beat of his heart. "Sydney is sleeping peacefully. Oh, and the babies?"

"The room across the hall with their grandparents.. You seem rather solicitous of their care, Jarod."

"Seeing I felt for years that I'd never be a father."

"True, but the Centre didn't want you to know of your ah-abilities."

He moved closer to her, his hand reaching for the towel. She almost thought of raising her hand to slap him away, but there were those chocolate brown eyes, and that sardonic smile.

"The bed, Jarod," she said. "I haven't had it for so long."

He knew what "it" was. "You don't have your gun with you."

"Oh but I do," she said with a smile, reaching down to bring her gun from between her breasts. "Oh and I can use it."

"After you remove it from the plastic bag,"

She did that, pointing it at him.

"And I have one too. Remember the rules, every Favorite gets a weapon and bullets to protect his owner, and possibly to protect him from the owner in case her mind goes awry."

They were now falling on the bed, guns forgotten on the floor, the rain incessant against the windowpane, their hearts beating. "You know what will happen now, Jarod."

"I'm on top, this time."

"This is not after the Official Joining. You do not have that right. I own you."

"But I am physically stronger than you, and for the sake of procreation, the chance of your conceiving is considerably greater if I am on the top."

"Do you really want me to go through that again, you male chauvinist pig?" she asked, her eyes belying the serious set of her lips.

He moved his hands down her side over the long tanned thighs. "Yes I do. And I'm quite good and I got the book." His eyes moved towards the dresser where there were two books, one recently put out by those Nannies, and the other, The Dominant Book written by Antonio Waldo Lambourni Angela.

"What one do you mean?"

"Both of them, Lady Angela." He smiled, his eyes twinkling.

She put her hands in his long dark hair. "I like that, but for your prowess, you're not exactly that action movie hero, Steve Se —"

"No, I'm better and I don't sit cross legged to meditate before getting down to ah business."

"Thank the Holy Mother for that." She parted her lips and they kissed long and hard..

She smiled, feeling his long body on hers, waiting for the ultimate joining that would once again start the circle in her of conception, the whole instinct of man and woman joining since time began. There was no need of chains, no need of handcuffs, no battle of the sexes, no "me running" and "you chasing" as before.

Here on this rickety bed in a nineteen thirties hotel in Dublin, they were making love, the erratic breathing, the sound of the metal springs underneath as it creaked to the sound of their bodies rejoicing in each other, sheets kicked to the foot of the bed, short breaths, hearts beating: the sound of two lovers engaged in passion.

And then it was over and like men had done since God first created Adam and Eve, Jarod rolled off her and was soon asleep, and Miss Parker was listening wondering why it took so long for her heart to slow down.

She lay there for an hour and then suddenly sat up, "If I've gotten pregnant, what should we name this four?" she asked.

"Oh something like Tinker, Tailor, Soldier, Sailor," said Jarod sleepily.

She took the pillow and threw it at him and they both collapsed back on the bed, she laughing and he snickering.

"How about Fee, Fie, Fo, Fum?" retorted Miss Parker.

"Or Eenie, Meenie, Minnie, Mo?"

"Do you know with our choice of names, this next bunch is going to be the most maladjusted kids we ever will have?"

"Do you feel sorry for them, Miss Parker?"

"No," she said, "Jarod, you were sensational!"

"I know."

And with that, both of them feel asleep, exhausted.


	32. Reflections on a Life Misplaced

CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

Sydney was dead. To all appearances, he died in his sleep in the early hours before dawn when man goes to meet his Maker. No one witnessed the inner turmoil, the guilt, the realization that he had been just as evil as the Centre, for all the protests that Miss Parker had said over the years.

When at last, his breath stopped and his soul left his body, Sydney knew he was not a good man.

If he had been alive to see them coming, he could have said, "I'm sorry Jarod for denying you your family, for not being brave enough to go against The Centre," now realizing that he was too valuable an employee for them to get rid of. The Parkers had hired him because of his former internment in the concentration camp, knowing that such a man would heed less the cries of a boy imprisoned and unable to see the light of day than one used to freedom.

They were right.

The Dead know no more. It said that in the Good Book and Sydney did not know when Jarod and Miss Parker entered the room, heard the doctor speak to them silently, say, "That he did not suffer."

He did not hear. "But we were told with treatment he'd get better."

"No Mrs. Angela. Even if he had paid attention to his health, he would not have lived longer. Sure and I'm surprised he made it this long."

"The Centre scientists," whispered Lady Angela, alias Miss Parker.

"Do you mean that Sydney had life extension therapy done on him?" asked Jarod.

"Every staff member gets it. Of course, I remember a time when they went too far. It was about the time, I was stopping smoking."

"How long did it take?"

She let out a sigh. "Don't remind me. It was horrible."

"So how did the therapy work – not the stop smoking – but Sydney's life being prolonged?"

She sat down in the chair, still feeling hot from what went on while Sydney had been dying. _Yes, he was gasping for air, and we were making whoopee!_

The morning sun almost blinded her, but the nurse considerately closed the drapes. "Can I get you a drink of water or tea?"

"Something strong and Earl Gray for my husband."

"Right away ma'am."

"So what happened?" asked Jarod.

Miss Parker started to correct the nurse, but then looked at Jarod. "You know she called you my husband,"

"Well according to the Official Joining, I am."

She nodded. "It does protect the children, doesn't it?"

"Yes. You were mentioning this treatment before. I don't know why I hadn't heard about it."

"I didn't know about it until Sydney told me. He promised me not to tell anyone until he died, but now I feel I have to."

Jarod sat down. "I'm listening," he said, remembering why Sydney looked younger than the retired soldiers – the ones who had lied about their age to fight the Fuhrer – he had seen on the parade on Veteran's Day.

"When Sydney got to the Centre, our team of scientists experimented on a method to prolong life. Sydney and Jacob were two of the volunteers. The reason was that the Nazis killed their families, not only to secure the boys, but to keep their medical condition secret. They hoped by giving the boys the proper nutrition, the boys would grow up to be good little Aryans and make good little Aryans in the future."

"An ordinary man lives a lifespan of seventy years plus more."

"But Sydney and Jacob would not have. According to their medical history, they would have been lucky to reach sixty, so —"

She grabbed Patricia who had run in from the Hallway and was now touching Sydney's corpse. "Dead man."

"Yes Patricia, Uncle Sydney's gone to heaven."

She shook her head. "Not heaven, mother."

Miss Parker suddenly looked at her daughter as if seeing her for the first time. "What are you?" she asked.

"Patricia, mother." The child looked up at her, her eyes wide with wonder, the innocence in it, but an innocence already clouded with the Dominant streak. "Fight mother?"

"Ask your brother Antonio."

"He says too small."

"The swords are very heavy," said Jarod in a deadpan type of voice.

"Yes and guns are dangerous too, Patricia. Antonio will start you on weapons your size, but you cannot attack people because they'll grab them out of your hands." She continued to exaggerate about bad people, making up excuses as she went along. Finally, Patricia was convinced, when Jarod said there were probably people, meaning Homo Dominants and fighting might bring in the police who would arrest everyone and throw them all in a dungeon. The little girl left with the ward nurse who had finally entered the room after chasing her through the hallways.

"I killed him," said Miss Parker to Jarod.

"We were together and you certainly do not have the towers of transmutation, telekinetic or other forms of mind control."

She shook her head. "Patricia said she sees Angels. I was alarmed at first, but Olivia confirmed it. When children see Angels, it usually means they will die. I kept visualizing Patricia running across the road – you know how they are – and a big truck or lorry running over her, so I prayed."

"You prayed?"

"I prayed to the Virgin Mother and to God that to take me, take my best friend, anyone except Patricia. I prayed that Antonio would run the Centre so it would be a benefit to mankind, and that you would see that it remains on track and they took my best friend instead." Tears were starting to form in her eyes.

"Sydney was old."

"He was my friend."

"And what am I?"

"I own you Jarod, but I also love you. There I said it."

"Then find a way to get that thing out of my head."

"And see you die? Do you really want to die, Jarod?"

His face told her.

She continued with her sorrow. "How many years of life do you have, do we have left? Forty? Fifty? I could take the potion, remain as I am and you, well look at your father, he hardly looks ten years older than you and what about the others of your kind, when they die, they look as if they barely reached sixty and yet how old are they?"

"You're gasping at straws, Miss Parker. It is dangerous and what if Raines had contaminated it.? Besides you'd have to take it every year for the rest of your life and you'll still have the same problems, the ulcer, that bleeding every month …."

"That's the periods, Jarod."

"And you're at the age when you get less fertile even with them replacing your ovaries. There'll be no more babies every five to seven months, you'll be lucky if you get pregnant every five years. Besides we have more important things to find out, find about ourselves."

"Yes and I have to get Olivia dancing lessons," she said, changing the subject

Jarod's heart beat a little slower. He stared at Sydney's dead body, wondering if he saw what he did when he was dead, whether hell was like that in the _Divine Inferno _with categories as to knowledge and responsibility, then his Dominant trait took over, and he was emotionless again.

"Nicholas must be on the way here. I gave him another call on his cell, to ask if he'd like to come on the search, but he told me he has to get back to teaching as he's missed too many days."

"Jarod, did you tell him that Sydney's dead?"

"He was living at that time, but I informed Nicholas that his father would probably be dead and to bring the appropriate material for internment."

"In those words?"

"I believe as a teacher he understood."

"I hope so and as soon as the funeral is over — Nicholas can then decide whether to have him buried here, shipped to Blue Cove, or in his ancestral home – we can be off to Norway."

"Here's your tea," said the nurse, coming in the door, "sorry I'm late."

"That's all right," said Miss Parker with a smile.

"Oh does the Doctor Green have any relatives?"

"Yes, his son will be here shortly."

"Good," she said, "I'll let the administration know. What's his name?"

"Nicolas," said Jarod.

She thanked them and left the room, leaving Jarod and Miss Parker to say goodbye to Sydney.


	33. A Welcome Addition to the Group

Letting Sydney die was essential to make the plot more convoluted, as if having Alex lurking around isn't enough trouble, the little girl seeing angels, Miss Parker being descended from the Angel of Death (the Norse version ), as well as Jarod trying to find out where his ancestors came from which isn't easy because his father probably took a different last name.

CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

Nicholas arrived later that day, along with his father's will, which requested that the funeral service and burial beheld at the Church in his beloved Belgium.

"But I was hoping for a Memorial service, here," said Miss Parker, glancing at the date. It was seven years old. _Hadn't he updated it since then?_

"There's a note attached to it. You can read it." He unstapled it and handed it to her.

In it, Sydney bemoaned his brother's death, and that with Jarod just escaping, his chances of survival were slim to none. He had indicated in his former will that he be interred at the cemetery of the Cathedral in Blue Cove (the Centre had a good funeral package, the best coffins, maintenance of the headstone and the grounds, a ten line obituary column in the Blue Cove Gazette along with a mention in the New York Times listing his accomplishments. Of course, no one mentioned the Centre, but substituted the name of another Think Tank to which The Centre had contributed millions of dollars.

No, in this will, Sydney reverted to the name he was born with until he Anglicized it. His brother Jakob had preceded him However, he had been without it so long, he had no idea how to spell it. He put down Sydney Verte and hoped that would suffice.

He left much of his money to his heir if he should have one, and a large amount to the Centre for Missing and Exploited Children. There was also an unspecified amount with a note explaining his action. "I was wrong in not letting Jarod know of the atrocities committed against those of our own race. Even though the Centre specifically told me to tell only about crimes committed against the Colored and Oriental races, I should have not kept silent about that committed by Stalin against the Ukrainians, those by the Nazis against the Jews, Gypsies, and Poles and against the white families by Mugabe in Zimbabwe as well as other atrocities.. Even if it meant my death, I should have refused. May God and the Holy Mother forgive me."

Nicholas promptly made out one bank draft to help those white farm families displaced by the upheaval in Rhodesia and another to help an organization that was finding jobs and homes for the poor in Eastern Europe. He also made out a check to the Simon Wiesenthal Foundation, and attached a memo that it was to go for a plaque to commemorate those Righteous Gentiles who helped Jews escape the Holocaust and been killed or imprisoned by the Nazis as well as any other expenses incurred..

Ironically, after Sydney had made the will, The Centre had gotten him to work with Miss Parker to bring Jarod back, and Sydney had no time to sit down to write another will.

It was their loss.

Nicholas bought a coffin and got Sydney's body ready for the long transport to Belgium where they would bury him in the little Churchyard. The coffin was quite expensive, but Jarod, Miss Parker, and Antonio all contributed most of the money to buy it. It had to cost a lot, lined so that Sydney's body would not deteriorate on the journey.

They got on the plane, bypassed Great Britain, and landed at the Brussels airport and drove out to the town where they had the funeral at the church where Sydney had attended as a boy. It was sad seeing not one of Sydney's family among the survivors, the old woman whose mother was a friend of Sydney's mother, the post master whose father often told how he and Sydney's father often threw rocks in the stream, the frock in the style of the late 1930s. There were not that many people there, which astonished Jarod.

"I had expected to see hundreds, no thousands coming out," he said.

"There was not much time to give any notice," said Miss Parker.

""I knew if I died, that there wouldn't be many people attending my funeral, but in Sydney's case, I expected more than this."

"So did I."

Nicolas was uncomfortable. He looked a bit like his father, not enough to recognize him as a distinct individual, but enough for others to see his father's eyes and shape of face. "I think the murderer of his family told them that Sydney had something to do with it," he said.

"I think you're right," said Miss Parker, seeing the undisguised hostility of the people.

They went to the Churchyard to bury Sydney, but the funeral oratory had been brief, no long memorials from beloved friends. The priest had whispered to Miss Parker that it would be best this way. "Considering what he did, I don't think you should say anything."

At that point, Miss Parker had assumed it was something to do with The Centre and made inquiries. What she learned shocked her. It involved the man who had held her friend prisoner.

"He informed on his own parents," said the old man between clenched teeth, "said they were Jews. We never saw them again until my father was on a work detail and had to dispose of the bodies."

"That's a lie!"

But the old man melted back into the background, before she could tell him the truth. Sydney never would have sold his family out to the Nazis.

Nicholas said a few words. He said that he only knew his father a short time and that he was kind and rather sad. He spoke of Jarod who was his father's surrogate son.

The priest gave Jarod— being a surrogate son — permission to say a few words.. He told how Sydney protected him from those who would harm him and how Sydney had changed from what he was when younger to be more caring. He told that Jakob's illness had turned Sydney around. "He often told me, that he should have done it sooner."

The congregation reluctantly agreed. After all, why tell this man that his foster father had done. The priest gave Jarod a little nod and he went back to the mourner's section. They were not going to let him speak anymore. There were too many false memories of what Sydney had supposedly done.

They buried Sydney in the small Churchyard graveyard and did not stay for the wake. All his good deeds, his donations to help the victims of World War II, to help locate missing children, to make up for the Centre's ills, had been destroyed by a lie!

"There won't be anyone there," said Miss Parker when Nicholas protested.

"I can find out the information on what really happened and let them know," he said, "but that means I won't be able to get back to the States,"

"You could have someone to substitute for you," said Antonio.

"But the children expect me."

"But not if you are doing research. You'll need a camcorder, tapes, a regular movie camera. You can make this a school project and send the information to your school."

"Is that all, Antonio?"

'"Oh you need makeup for the camera and we'll have to make part of the plane into a studio."

Miss Parker gave a large sigh as she listened to Antonio's spiel and what it would cost.

"At least if that would be a good cover," said Rachel.

"For who?" asked Jarod.

"Someone whom Interpol, Scotland Yard, and Interpol are after, a very intelligent criminal." She did not say anymore.


	34. Roger Carmichael's Revelation

CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

When Jarod, Miss Parker, and company arrived at Heathrow Airport, they found their reception more than they expected. It appeared that Frederick had suddenly decided that the Central Intelligent Agent who was trying to get him in as the "youngest member of the agency" should give him a holiday, "for all that hard studying and people are getting suspicious"— well that was his excuse. The real reason was that a movie company was lurking about.

Any way, the only one in the CIA (for all of Frederick's boastings) that knew of his intentions was that particular agent. The others thought he was this teenager whose "father" probably worked for the company and was trying to use his "father's" influence to get in.

That was the way with Little Margaret. She was too young for the leading lady or even her friend, even though she often said she was a great singer.

She was getting tired of dressing up as a maid or a flighty coquette when she should have, in her opinion, been Aida or Violette. (They told her it would not work unless it was the part when the latter was dying of consumption.) Margaret was not a tall girl.

Nicholas was busy with his camcorder, which he had bought in the States before coming over; shooting and speaking into the mike at the same time. "Boys and girls, this is Heathrow Airport, I am here at the Ticket Counter. This were you buy your tickets to go to any place in the world." He handed the mike to the attendant, a young woman. "I'm making a video for my class. If you aren't too busy, could you tell them what you do?"

"Sure governor." She put on her brightest face. "Hello boys and girls. I'm Miss Smith. When a grownup wants to go on a vacation, they might decide to go to a place like Rome, Italy! (she said this phrase with great excitement), they come to me and ask for tickets." With that she showed her ticket pad, waiting until Nicholas zoomed in, and continued giving a description of her job, the asking of "smoking or non-smoking, first class or economy, etc," while Nicholas filmed.

Jeremiah and his brothers and sisters were looking rather greedily at chocolate bars behind the glass of one of those small shops inside the airport terminal. Their eyes filled with sorrow, as they tried to get their parents to breakdown, but the suggestion, "we're starving, and we'll fall dead, famished from hunger," did not work on the heartless grownups who just shook their heads. The infants also joined in with a squalor and Miss Parker was almost ready to relent when Patricia whispered "Olivia pinched them."

"Olivia!" yelled her mother at which the girl made a pouting face and became all sorrowful which did not fool Miss Parker one bit.

Lambourni was also looking over the crowd dreading to see if there was a mob with either, his hair color, eyes, shape of face — anything that said, "Lambourni's kids."

Luckily, some of the Lambourni clan had some sense and only a few were there. So after Jarod, Miss Parker, and Lambourni got their respective family members, they all started for the motor car that would drive them to the Opera House when a man in a gray suit stopped them.

"Jarod? Miss Parker?" he asked, going over to them.

"How did you know our name?" Miss Parker asked, "we didn't tell anyone we're coming and who are you?"

"Roger Carmichael. You heard of my father?"

"Yes, The Dominants killed him in Mexico," said Miss Parker. "I wonder whether you were not volunteered."

"My mother had died, and they probably thought that I would inherit her delicate condition. I did."

"So only the strongest were allowed," said Jarod.

"You saw the DVD on the Hercules Project," said Roger, "it wasn't just to get the mightiest. If the war had continued, they would have been parachuted to isolated areas, forced to live off the land, in caves, with little or no shelter. They couldn't afford any sickness and they had to have a strong moral character, an ability to take on the customs and appearances of either a German, a French collaborator, an English spy of dubious loyalty, et cetera."

"So who took care of you?"

"An aunt."

"Maiden?" asked Miss Parker.

"My father's sister. She died six years ago. She did have a husband but he was killed in the Blitz. They had just been married, so she kind of doted on me."

"So why are you here?"

Carmichael reached into his pocket and pulled out two photographs. "Recognize these?"

Miss Parker turned both photographs over. One was of a young Navy Officer, standing proud besides a young woman who looked rather scared. The other was of a doctor behind another woman, this one holding a baby. There was another man in the picture who stood besides the woman, his face beaming. The caption on the back read, "Our one hundredth delivery, a healthy baby girl, St. George's Maternity Hospital, 194-"

"This is my grandfather, Lamech Parker," she told Carmichael, "He was a Navy Lieutenant, but what is he doing in a doctor's uniform and who is this Dr. Halbert?"


End file.
